Twenty Eight -- And Still Getting Out
by Hallie
Summary: I suck at censors... so just to be on the Safe Side, PG. Orright, first part of what's hopefully a sequeled story if I get around to it. Hinted m/m, Hermione's POV. She's 28... and living in Boston. Yeah.
1. Default Chapter Title

Another Thanksgiving has come and gone, and still I haven't done the dishes.  
You'd think it's not a big deal. The key word here is you'd think. I live in a rather large apartment in Boston, with four other roomates: The Calm One, Gray (or that's what he says it is -- I never would have thought a colour to be a name); The Impossible Twins, Jacob and Aaron; and Becca. She's at her parents house in Vermont right now, so she's not doing the dishes. Gray usually does them, so he's taking a break. Yet you'd think I'd be the one to do the dishes now. But it's The Impossible Twins. It's happened every year for the 10 years I've lived with them all, and I'm beginning to wonder.. am I able to clean dishes?  
Gray watched me, sipping his deep red blood (he's half vampire -- it was rather frightening at first, but he's the sort of person who has so much self control you want to strangle him) from a red-stained goblet. It always gets on my nerves. He's a writer, and is constantly observing everything that goes on around him. I don't know how he can just _sit_ there... but nevermind. I told you Becca's away: she hates her parents 100%, so, of course, she goes there every year. Typical. She has black hair, I think: it's always coated by some sort of dye or sparkle. She's an artist, always diong these weird artsy things. She teaches at some Muggle elementary school not far from here. She, herself, is a witch, but hardly ever uses magic. I don't know how she copes.  
The Impossible Twins are... impossible. They're so immature and irresponsible... I don't know how on earth they got the money they did. I suppose there must be some sort of calm side underneath. I can hear them clattering in the kitchen, and it doesn't sound like they're washing dishes, but they get it done. I don't know why they don't just get out their wands. I think it's part of Thanksgiving: you have to cook and clean without magic. "It's part of the tradition," Becca said this morning as she apparated home.  
Jacob and Aaron are so much like Fred and George it amazes me sometimes. They're not brothers: that would mean incest. No, they don't look anything alike, but they're so the same in every other way. They opened up a candy store just down the road in Penny Lane, the equivelant of Diagon Alley. They make the candy all themselves, and they have plenty of money... I don't know why they don't get their own apartment, or even house. It's not like I'm jealous of them or anything... it's just I don't make a heck of a lot of money teaching at Seremicald, a wizarding school in California. Don't get me wrong, I love my job, and the kids are great. I never thought I'd go on to teach Divination, but there you have it. I don't quite beleive it, myself. I guess I've turned into a regular old Snape, just waiting for a Transfigurations opening.  
I got an owl a few days before Thanksgiving. There was a reunion at Hogwarts, and I really didn't want to go.  
----  
"When is it?" Becca asked, twirling a quill before placing it on the parchment to produce another stroke to her drawing.  
"Oh, I don't know," I said, glancing down at the letter. "Two weeks?" I brought the typewriter closer to me and clicked the letters, typing up a draft worksheet for students when we got back from Thanksgiving Break.  
"Are you going to go?"  
"You know I can't just leave my work, Becca."  
"But Hermione, this is an excuse if there ever was one!"  
"An excuse to what?"  
"You know.."  
"No, I don't." I paused typing and looked over my glasses at her. I was almost sure that I did, in fact, know what she was talking about.  
"To yell at Harry and Ron for not keeping in touch."  
"Becca!!"  
"I know you say you don't want to, but come on, Hermione, they're your friends! They ought to know how cruel they've been." I sighed and shook my head, resuming my typing. "Come on. You have to get out."  
"Get out? Becca, I'm not 18 anymore."  
"No, you're only 28, and way too young to be all mature and prim and proper. When you're 32, I'll let you, but right now, I'm making you go to that reunion!"  
"No."  
"Please?"  
"No!"  
"For me?"  
"No."  
"Aurgh, fine. But don't come crying to me when you don't have any friends."  
"Aren't we friends?" I replied, trying not to smile as I got back to work.  
"Well yes, but-"  
"Then stop your fussing."  
----  
I packed my bags to return to Seremicald the next day, and I still hadn't made my decision. The reunion was a week away, and I'd have to give notice to Proffesor Fichudle, the Headmaster, well in advance. She was very unorganized, poor thing, and I knew to be considerate of her.  
"Bye Gray," I said, grabbing my keys and shoving them in my pocket. "Tell The Impossible Twins that I wont miss them, and tell Becca... tell her I'll send her an owl from Hogwarts." I blinked. I hadn't realised I'd made my decision. But the deed was done. Gray nodded and waved, taking a sip of blood to wake himself up. I shivered slightly and apparated out the door, to the gate leading to Seremicald.

note::so, how'd y'all like it? ::bites lip:: okay, so it's strange. and i don't know how realistic it is that she becomes a divination teacher but come on peoples, i'm strange! ::sigh::  
well, i didn't specify font _size_ this time, so maybe there'll be no more "I CAN'T READ IT!" notes in my reviews... >< talk about taking the wind out of your sails.  
I have no idea where this is going. No idea at all. So tell me if you want to continue... otherwise there's no way in hell i'm making an effort to.  
Thanks to Chibi for the help, though limited, with names... and to dolly-chan for looking at duct tape sites while telling a screaming me to shut up and let her think. ::rolls eyes::  
So... yeah. Thanks for all the reviews, guys, i'm in love with y'all! And i'm amazed at how many ((well, 2)) people have put me up on their favorite authors list... when i saw myself on Dia's, my jaw _**dropped**_. I'm still in disbeleif -- Dia, darling, it *was* an error, wasn't it? Just ask chibi and dolly... they were there to calm me down when i noticed ^^;;;;;;;;;  
xox, -[Hallie][1]

   [1]: mailto:hallie@beepbeep.co.uk?subject=bitch



	2. Default Chapter Title

Orlando Story - Chapter 17

_Father of mine_   
_Tell me where have you been_   
_You know I just closed my eyes_   
_My whole world disappeared_   
_Father of mine_   
_Take me back to the day_   
_When I was still your golden boy_   
_Back before you went away_   
_I remember the blue skies, walking the block_   
_I loved it when you held me high_   
_I loved to hear you talk_   
_You would take me to the movie_   
_You would take me to the beach_   
_Take me to a place inside that is so hard to reach..._

-"Father of Mine" by Everclear

Downtown Orlando, FL   
6 January 1998   
13h21

"Please just don't talk to me right now!"

"Please...Apassionada! Just talk to me, we'll work things out."

"Go away!"

Apassionada had gotten back home late last night. Her entire household had been worried to death of her. Andrew's friends had come to visit while she was gone. This quite upset her, after what had happened. It was only then that everyone had found out about Brad and Ian. Since she wouldn't talk to her parents, Andrew tried to talk to her, but she stormed out of the house in a conundrum. He followed her, all the way into town, trying to get her to calm down, when she began to mumble about breaking things off with him. The mere mention of it sent him crazy.

"Could you at least tell me where you went on Saturday? Apassionada!" He finally caught up to her, stopping her with his strong arms. "Please! I love you, come on, we can work things out."

"No we can't! I don't love you anymore. Not as long as you've got those asshole friends of yours, not as long as you act..." she broke. A new wave of tears came over her. "...as long as you act just like him, because, I hate him. You remind me just of him."

"Of who? Brad? Why are you so stuck on him? He's gone, Apassionada, and I'm sorry-"

"I'm not!" She struck his hand away from her, and he pulled back with a stinging pain.

"Well, that's your thing. OK? Let's go back home-"

"No!"

"What's your problem? What have my friends done to you? Nothing. Yeah, we get crazy sometimes, but that's us. They're not going to kill you, Apassionada."

"I don't even know you. How can you say such things?"

"What do you mean you don't know me? Listen, you're mad," he soothed, sweeping back a strand of her hair," I love you. You know that. I know you do."

She ran away from him. Nick had called on Thursday night, saying he was going to be staying at A.J.'s home till this Sunday, and she headed there.

* * *

"Nick!"

"Apassionada! What's wrong?" He was with Mandy. She had just caught the two as they were leaving. Putting a protective arm around her, Nick took her back up to A.J.'s, as she explained to them.

"Brad. Didn't you hear? Ian killed him. He jsut shot him down. They're both dead. Oh my God, I'm gonna go crazy." She pulled on his jacket. "You gotta help me, they're gonna kill me. Help me!"

"What? When? How did this happen?"

"In Jacksonville. At the Naval Air Station." She could hardly breath. "Ian followed me there, and he shot him. And then he turned the gun on himself."

"What were you doing in Jacksonville?"

"I don't know!"

"What about Andrew? Is he alright?"

"I don't care anymore! God, just do something. Please," she moaned as Mandy knocked on A.J.'s front door.

"What...what do you mean you don't care?" Mandy wondered.

"What's goin' on?" A.J. said.

"Her ex-boyfriend got shot...by one of his friends. They're both dead," Nick explained.

"What? When?" Nick explained the story to him for her taking him into a corner, and speaking to him softly. By this time, someone's arm was around Apassionada. She thought it was Nick, but when she looked up, it was Mandy.

"When did this happen?" she asked.

"On Saturday." She hugged her in return. Perhaps she did have a heart.

"Did Andrew go with you?"

"No. I went alone."

"Alone! To Jacksonville?"A.J. said. "Do you know how dangerous that is? You should have at least taken Andrew with you. God knows what could've happened to you." "God I just can't stand him sometimes. Right now I just hate him. If it wasn't for him, Brad would probably still be alive." She hid her head on Nick's shoulder as A.J. ushered Mandy out of the room, so the two could have some privacy, for he knew Apassionada and Nick were close.

"What do you mean?"

"Andrew's just like Brad. Just another fucking jerk."

"How?"

Silence.

"You know...,"he soothed,"by saying that, you're acting just like Brad."

"Me?!"

"Yes! Don't you see? You treating Andrew the same exact way Brad treated you? You're doing the same thing. You can't stand his friends. You hate them. And if things don't turn out the way you want them to, you shut it all out of your life. Think if you left him, like Brad left you. You'd be surprised, he loves you, like you were so sure Brad still loved you."

"Brad still did love me."

"What can you do about it now? What difference does it make? How can you say he loved you when he hid behind his friends the entire time?"

"What do I say to him?"

"That is up to you."

* * *

Nick gave her a ride back home in his car. The ride over with him and his girlfriend was silent, and Apassionada spent the time by watching the orange groves as they sped by them on the highway. By the time they reached her place, it had begun to rain again.

Nick asked,"Are you gonna be alright?"

"Yeah, I think so. Thanks," she smiled.

"Listen, if you think anyone's trying to hurt you, or if you feel like you need protection, don't hesitate to call the police, or your parents at least. Now they have evidence, they must help you."

"Alright."

"See you at the Grammy's!"

"See ya."

She went through the electronic gate, and up the front steps. Once Nick and Amanda had mad sure she was inside, they drove away. No one was home. She quietly climbed the lavish stairway to her room on the second floor. When she came in, Andrew was sitting on the floor. He was resting his head on his knees. When he heard the sound of her entrance, he looked up. She had turned away from his touch that day. When he looked at her, she lay her eyes elsewhere.

"Apassionada." He waited for a reply, but got none. She walked over to the other side of the room, pretending not to hear. He began to whisper,"Were you there when he died?" He walked over to the window, which she was hypnotizingly looking out of. After a moments thought, she broke down and cried nervelessly again. She lost so much control, she fell to the ground, but he was there to catch her fall. He picked her up and carried her to her bed.

She lay there on her side for a while, hiding her face from him. He sat beside her for the entire time, brushing her hair back, and kissing her. He took her into her bathroom, and washed her face. Afterwards, they took a short walk around the fountain and garden path of the property, behind the home. He wore a suit of his, with his black trenchcoat, while she still wore a floral little slip dress of hers, with an overcoat since it had just rained.

"I think you're being a bit cruel," he said, holding her hand.

"I be so cruel?" She lifted her head up. "What have I done?"

"You need to realize what the situation is here, instead of blaming someone else."

"You're the one who hunted me down like an animal. I thought you were one of them! I thought you were a skinhead punk-ass out to kill me."

"Why must we dwell on this?" he yelled at the top of his lungs. That was the final straw. "I said I was sorry I followed you! It was a mistake!"

"A mistake! A mistake? A mistake is wearing two different pairs of shoes on your feet!"

"OK so I fucked up! Alright? I'm an idiot. You happy now? I'm a fucking dumb-ass! I said it a million times and I'll say it again. 'I'm sorry.' OK? I really am. I don't know what else to say. Jesus Christ!"

"I'm sorry."

"You're so...distant sometimes. I love you. And when I say that I mean it."

"Just give me some time alone right now."

With that, she took a different way around the path, and walked down to the far end of the property, at the bottom of a steep hill. At the bottom was a hammock, which hung in between two palm trees that perfectly decorated the entrance to the guesthouse. She lay on the hammock for a while, till it began to get dark. The sky above her that she saw sparingly through the wide fanned branches of the palms took on the most wildest shades imaginable. They swirled together into puffs of cloud or streaked to meet the horizon. The sound of birds and crickets hummed not too distantly. It could almost be summer again.

Right now she was deciding whether she loved Andrew or not, or at least if she loved him enough. Yes, he had done alot for her, but what had she done in return? Or was it the other way around? Hadn't she done so much for him, and him nothing in return? She thought and thought and thought. The image of his face in her mind sent chills up and down her spine. Was it because she was afraid of him? Or because she loved him? Maybe she was afraid to love him.

By nightfall, she was making her way back up the hill. In the distance, she saw him by the waterfalls under the rocks, an addition to the house she had suggested to her father when they were re-modeling. He looked so sad, yet angry. He must have had one of his spells again, she thought.

"Andrew."

He was looking over the waters of the pond, near a couple palm trees. He skipped a rock. She could tell clearly now that he was having one of his fits. He turned around.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm so sorry," as she began to cry again, taking ahold of him. "I'm sorry." he put his hand on her head. He could cup it in his hands, she was so delicate. He kissed her.

"Let's go home."

* * *

"My father died when I was ten. My grandmother in France raised me after that, and when I came here, I lived with my other grandmother. I haven't seen my mother in a long time, so I'm not so sure if I want to go back to see her."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know." Apassionada and Andrew sat out on her balcony, as a soft rain came down under the moonlight. The pitter-patter of the water falling upon the palms could be heard loudly. They always talked like this. Tonight they talked everything through.

"It's nothing. I'm glad we worked things out," he said, kissing her.

"Andrew?"

"Yeah?"

"I was at A.J.'s today. I think we found my father."

"You didn't know your father?"

"Yeah, he lives out in St. Cloud. I talked with him on the phone today, and we got alot of things sorted out."

"Are you going to visit him?"

"Yes. Would you come with me?"

"Of course."

* * *

It turned out that Apassionada's biological mother had prohibited her father from having even any contact with their daughter. So her assumptions had been correct. Why wouldn't a father want to not be part of his children's life? Well her father, at least, and her life? Once, when Apassionada was too young to probably remember, he had stopped by the house. Her mother had thrown a vase at him. Everything that she had been taught to believe had been wrong. For to her, not being a father when given the chance, wasn't that like suicide? Yet somehow it was what millions of fathers chose to do every year.

A few days later after her initial conversation with her father, Andrew and Apassionada drove down to St. Cloud. Walking up the cobblestone steps to a nice, rather large hom, Apassionada rang the doorbell. A few moments later, a tall black man, looking in his mid-fiftuies years old, answered the door.

"Oh my God," he said.

"Papa!" He had aged, alot. A blonde woman, looking about twenty years his junior stood behind him, with a little girl in tug.

"Come on in. This is Lauren, my wife, and Latashya, your step-sister. This is Apassionada."

"Hi, this is my boyfriend Andrew." She tried hard, yet to no avail, to push back the tears in her eyes. Her father put his arm around her.

"Hi," they both said. "Nice to meet you guys," said Lauren,"we've heard so much about you!"

"Oh really!?" They all sat down in the living room. Her father had kept a rather nice place, she took notice.

"Yes, James tells us you're a model and a songwriter."

"Yes, I am. I just got started recently."

"That's wonderful! You wrote 'Darlin'' by the Backstreet Boys?" "Yes, me and my friend Kristin have been nominated for a few Grammys now, too."

"Wow! You must be a genius! Well, congratulations."

"Thank you."

After showing them around the house for a while, the group decided to go out to lunch. Before leaving the house, Apassionada's step-mother took out a camera, and took a few shots of them as a group. And for the first time, perhaps ever, Apassionada felt whole. As a person, as having feelings, and thoughts that would otherwise never have crossed her mind.   
  
  


Orlando Story-Chapter 18

_I know all about that other guy_   
_The handsome man with athletic thighs_   
_I know about all the times before_   
_With that obsessive little rich boy_   
_They might think you're happy_   
_Yeah maybe for a minute or two_   
_They can't make you laugh_   
_No they can't make you feel the way that I do_

_I will buy you a garden where your flowers can bloom_   
_I will buy you a new car, perfect shiny and new_   
_I will buy you that big house way up in the west hills_   
_I will buy you a new life_   
_Yes I will_

-"I Will Buy You A New Life" by Everclear

Summers Residence   
12 January 1998   
8h32

The pitter-patter of soft raindrops falling onto the skylight could faintly be heard, as the Summers family gathered downstairs for their Sunday brunch. Everyone was quiet, as Apassionada picked up the obituaries, reading the statement for Brad's funeral, today at 13h at the Woodlawn Funeral Home.

Apassionada wore her chiffon nightgown, which she often wore to breakfast, though not to bed. Andrew was seated next to her, wondering if she was alright. Though they had solved all of their problems, everything between them was strained and silent. She folded the paper softly.

"Excuse me," she whispered. Andrew took her hand, though not firmly, as a sign to see if she was fine. She brushed past him.

Upstairs, she got herself into her black knit wool dress. It had spaghetti straps and beading into it, but it was the only thing which she felt could be appropriate for a funeral; she didn't feel like wearing a suit. It came up above her knee, though it had long tassels coming down below her knee. She put on some knee high boots.

Andrew came in shortly afterwards, closing the door. His hands were in his pockets.

"Are you alright?"

She turned around. "Yes," she said, without looking him in the eye.

"Where are you going?"

She hesitated. Considering what had happened the last time she had not told him where she was going, she answered,"To Woodlawn Funeral Home."

"You're going?"

"Yes."

"Were you invited?"

"No."

"Then why are you going? It would be considered impolite."

"I know. But then again, his people have done some impolite things in their time, too."

"...I'll drive you."

* * *

"Tu vas rester dans la voiture, ou tu m'accompagneras?" _"Are you going to stay in the car, or will you be coming with me?"_

"Je ne veux pas aller." _"I don't want to go."_

Apassionada closed the door, and walked onto the lawn. She had a few lilies with her, fresh from her garden. Past the front of the building and into the cemetery where people were gathered, she slowly walked by. A few people turned around, not knowing who she was, or what she was doing here.

She timidly stepped into line to pay her last respects of him, when someone grabbed her on the shoulder. It was Chanel. The beautiful girl's face was a mess, with tears coming down every which way.

"Chanel."

"What are you doing here?" she croaked.

"I-I...I had to come...to...do something."

She hugged her. The next time Apassionada turned around, the coffin with her ex-lover's body lay before her, and she almost screamed. A thousand memories flooded her mind. She nearly fell back, and Chanel got her back.

"Just take a deep breath," she said. "Just breathe. You'll be fine." Someone came stomping to her then.

"Get out!" It was Brad's father. "Get out! We don't want you. You're not invited here. You've caused this family more of pain, suffering, and heartache than we can handle. Leave NOW!" His eyes were blood red, and his face took on the look of a dog.

Chanel stood up to him. "She hasn't done anything! You can't make her leave. This isn't a private funeral. It's outside, and she may have any right to pay her last respects to someone she cared for." "Then you can leave as well." They left the procession, but not before Apassionada threw the lilies into Brad's coffin. Only then she left, running away.

* * *

Blindly running, Chanel and Apassionada, holding hands, ran to the nearest tree. Both crying wildly, they laid down under the shade, trying to control themselves. In the distance, away from the funeral and onto the endless lawns of the dead, Apassionada saw someone familiar. Nick? No, it couldn't be. Andrew then. But no, Andrew wasn't wearing any casual clothes today. It had to have been Nick. The man was looking down at someone's grave, but he was so far away, it was impossible to make out his particular features to see if it was indeed Nick. He seemed to be crying.

As she looked some more, she took notice that someone was next to him, on his other side. Mandy! It was her alright. They both were holding onto each other with all the sadness and hopelessness she has seen in all her life. They seemed to depend on each other for strength, feeding each other their pain.

Just as Apassionada was about to get up, he looked up from his grieving, and looked her way. Right at her. She shook with fright. It was Nick! What was he doing here? "Ch-Chanel," she whispered. She turned around to find her.

"What," she said. She was laying on the ground, her hand against her forehead. "Lo-look, it's Nick. Nick Carter of the Back-" She looked out onto the field again. "Where?" Chanel was a fan.

He was gone. Not having have moved or walked onto another grave. But gone. Out of sight. Into thin air.

"NICK!" Crazed, the mulatto girl ran onto the lawns, trying to find him. "Nick! Where are you!" She couldn't sense if Chanel had followed her.

She found the grave he was looking at. It was one of those pillars, with writing on it. She looked around everywhere. It was impossible to disappear! Especially in an open public place as an outdoor cemetery. She turned to the pillar.

It was one of the older graves. The writing was washed away, and all that could be seen was a bit of characters on the bottom. It wasn't in English, but in some odd language which she could not decipher. Someone came up behind her. She immediately swinged around, her guard up.

"Andrew!"

"Hey, what are you doing all the way around here?"

"What - what - what - are you doing? Were - were - you just here?"

"No, I just got here. I came to find you, in case anything happened. I've been worried about you lately."

"Did - did you just change clothes??? Were you just here now? Looking at this grave about 5 minutes ago?"

"No! I just told you, I just came here! I've been wearing these clothes all morning! Are you alright? Listen, I'm really worried about you. We need to leave."

"NO!"

"No, I mean it. Now. You're not looking well at all. You need some rest and sleep. It's been a hard week."

Without another word; without questioning his decision, she took hold of him, wanting to forget this had ever happened. To forget that anything had ever happened.

* * *

On the 28th, Apassionada and Kristin flew up to New York for Nick's birthday party out in Manhattan. Apassionada's party at Orlando's Hard Rock Cafe for her birthday, the unofficial Backstreet hang-out spot now, was exactly one week later. This was just a few hours after Glenda Hood, the mayor of Orlando, announced that exactly 6 months from this day was Official Backstreet Boys Day, to commemorate when "Darlin' " first hit #1 on Billboard's Hot 100. August 4, 1998 was to be the first one.

Though Mandy had her own party for her birthday (a few days before Nick's), thrown by Nick himself, she came neither to her or Nick's party. Apassionada had wanted to thank her for being so kind that one day, and maybe they could mend things between them, but never had gotten the chance to.   
  
  


Orlando Story-Chapter 19

_And all I can taste is this moment_   
_And all I can breathe is your life_   
_Cause sooner or later it's over_   
_I just don't want to miss you tonight_

_And I don't want the world to see me_   
_Cause I don't think that they'd understand_   
_When everything's made to be broken_   
_I just want you to know who I am_

-"Iris" by the Goo Goo Dolls

"What's up! What's up!"

Apassionada had just arrived onto the red carpet to the Grammy's. Wearing a Versace silk-chiffon dress with beading and appliqué, it was one of the first pieces designed by Donatella Versace, after taking over her late brother's business. As seen in the January 1998 issue of Vogue, the dress was stunning, with the top almost taking the shape of a brassiere, then the long, flowing skirt of the dress hooking on by the cleavage of the top part. Overall, it created the effect of two triangular slits on her waist. The crowd roared as she came walking down, and she waved and smiled for the cameras and fans. Andrew, who escorted her to the show, was wearing an suit from Jean-Paul Gaultier, which took the people's breath away. He may not have been a movie star, but he sure played the part well. After a short interview with ET, they met up with Backstreet.

"Hey Brian! How's it goin'?" Apassionada waved to him on the carpet.

"I'm alright. A little nervous." He rung his hands together.

"11 nominations? I think you gonna win sumpin'!"

The Backstreet Boys (plus producers and writers) were nominated in the following categories:

Best New Artist   
Record of the Year   
Song of the Year   
Album of the Year   
Pop Duo/Group with Vocal   
Best Pop Album   
R&B Group with Vocal   
R&B Song   
R&B Album   
Producer of the Year   
Short Form Music Video

Fortunately, "Darlin'" and the self-titled album in which it was on was released just in time to make the deadlines for nominations, or else they'd have to wait for next year, which would be disastrous.

"I hope so."

"I can't wait to see y'all perform tonight!"

"Oh you'll love it."

"What are you guys gonna do?"

"I can't tell ya!"

"Of course you can!"

"Well yeah I can, can't I? BUT I WON'T!"

"Oh you suck!"

In the first hour of the show (the part which would not be broadcasted on air), Apassionada got the award with the Backstreet Boys for Best Short Form Music Video. The six of them went up on stage, as thousands and thousands of people went crazy, screaming and yelling. At first, they didn't know what to say, except for Brian, who just had to thank God first. Then Kevin came to the mic to give a shout out to all their friends and family who had supported them. Howie and A.J. both thanked all their fans and supporters. Nick let Apassionada go before him, for he was obviously too shy. He decided he'd say a little something in the end after her. She stepped up to the mic, almost crying.

"I'd just like to thank everyone who made this video what it is. The crew, the cast," she said looking back the guys, as tears ran down her face," and everyone out there: every man woman or child who is being beaten, abused and neglected. There is help out there, and that's what I wanted to portray and reach out for by doing this video. Thank you."

Kristin, after her thank you's, crept in a little "Backstreet Boys ROCK!" for everyone. The crowd roared.

Shortly after, BSB picked up Best R&B Song. This was unusual, and Apassionada knew that there'd be some controversy about the guys winning this award. After all, they were a white group. Yes, they had won it for singing a rhythm and blues song, but they weren't black, which is who the R&B awards were for. Nevertheless, she was overjoyous.

Then Apassionada and Kristin were announced for Best Producers of the Year. Like the award before it, it was a surprise. Producer of the Year was for people like Denniz PoP, Walter Afansieff, and Babyface: people that had made numerous hits within the year. The two girls had only produced one, not to mention it was their first production and they weren't exactly well known. For their acceptance speech, Apassionada decided to do something brave.

"I'm sorry I'm making all these soliloquies tonight," she spoke softly,"but I'd just like to say that this song was based on a relationship that I had with a football player at my school. And, we were forced to break up because his friends threatened to kill him if he didn't because I wasn't "popular" enough. About a month ago,"she said on the podium, as tears began to fall,"he was murdered. The sole purpose of my writing this song was destroyed by his best friend in just one second. Someone whom he had known for 10 years of his life. And now it's gone. Because he hated his race. Because he hated hisself...I dedicate this award,"holding up the trophy,"in memory of Brad Livingston. Thank you everyone." Kristin hugged her, and they both walked off-stage.

About an hour later, the Backstreet Boys picked up yet another award for Best Pop Duo or Group. Nothing in particular happened after that till the last few awards of the show, where the BSB got both Best Record, Best Album and Apassionada and Kristin, as songwriters, were awarded for Best Song of the Year. For all three of the awards, the audience sprang to frenzied joy. All the girls stood up, giving them a standing ovation. Nick was getting giddy from all the excitement. A.J. was going crazy. Kevin, interestingly enough, kept his cool.

For Song of the Year, Apassionada struted up in her gown, with all the guys in the front whistling. Oh boy, she thought, what's Andrew gonna say? There would be more than a few brawls at the after-party, the way some of the men were trying to get on her. Kristin got alot of response from some of the perverts as well.

"Jerks,"she whispered to Pash, just out of the mic's radius. Not that the girls weren't a problem. Some of them had been quite solicitous to the Boys, especially Nick and A.J., before they arrived at the Auditorium.

After picking up the last award of the evening, the Backstreet Boys went off-stage for a quick change, then re-entered for the final performance of the evening. The backstage crew could tell they were nervous. Some people picked up their awards for them, a group of ass-kissers monotonously congratulated them on their wins, and they got dressed to go back up on stage.

Meanwhile, an orchestra with about 100 members set up their instruments in the pit near the stage. Smoke filled the air and beautiful lights illuminated the auditorium as the people began to scream. The five singers stood under the stage, ready to be elevated at any second now. Brian began to break into a cold sweat. This was the last time, he thought. And the most important as well. In less than twenty-four hours, he'd be under the knife at a hospital in Minnesota. All the guys gave each other a thumbs up, and they were raised on stage to perform for millions and millions of people around the globe.

The platforms locked to stage level, and the music began. Strings, horns, percussion, winds and brass all came together to make the most beautiful sound of all. This was "Darlin' ", the Orchestral Version. It would never be performed again; only this one time. It being the Grammys, they decided to do someting classy, and the classy music matched their ultra-hip outfits.

Their harmonies were perfect; very tight. Before they knew it, the audience gave them a standing ovation in the end, and the show was over. Nick stood backstage, in a trance. He had just performed on the most prestigous music awards show ever. They had just won six of them. This couldn't be happening to him, he whispered to himself.

At that moment, Mandy came up to him. He had secretly taken her along, and secured her a spot in the audience. During their performance, he sang especially to, and for her. Her face had glowed, he reminisced. Now she came up to him, and gave him a most passionate kiss.

"You're a winner," she said, as she held his face in her hands.

"No," he said, taking ahold of them,"you are." They kissed once more.

Apassionada stood in the distance, watching them. They were perhaps the most interesting couple to her. Fighting one minute, kissing the next. Brian had told her of numerous times where they'd get into the most vivacious argument, only to resolve moments later, when for sure he'd thought that that was the final fight. It was a wonder they hadn't broken up yet, he had told her.

Andrew came through the backstage entrance a few moments later. He kissed her, congratulating her on her awards. Kristin was beside her, and they hugged, for they were still good friends. There were no hard feelings between any of them.

About half an hour later, everyone left to go to the Arista Records (Jive was a sect of that label) Grammys after-party. Clive Davis, Whitney Houston, and many other famous names would be showing up there soon. Andrew took Apassionada's hand and everyone left in their limo.

It was February 26, as the Backstreet Boys, sans Brian flew in from Minnesota. Hundreds of fans crowded around the airport gate to Orlando International to greet them. People threw them red roses as a gift for their sweep at the Grammys. Girls began to weep. The Boys' bodyguards pushed people out of the way to make room for them to come home.

After the Grammy after-parties, the Backstreet Boys, Leighanne had flown to St. Paul directly, and united with Brian's family. They all gathered to see Brian off before surgery. They now returned to their hometown, with everyone wondering of the latest news. As for Mandy, Kristin, and the rest of the others, they had flown in either on a separate plane, or been taken to another airport.

"Don't worry, he's fine, he's going to make a full recovery," they all constantly reassured the people. Nothing could seem to keep them down, however. Some dedicated Brian fans were crying uncontrollably, screaming,"He's gonna die! He's gonna die!" Howie hugged some of them, and told them Rok was gonna be fine.

Leighanne Wallace had stood by his bedside that day, next to all of Brian's family, as he began to moan and cry. It hurt her when they hurt him. As they switched his beds, and moved him down into the surgery room, his mother went running after him.

"Brian! Brian! Brian," she had yelled, till she couldn't run anymore. She fell into the closest seat, with her husband and son's girlfriend right beside her, comforting her. "My son,"she cried. "My son."

That proved to be perhaps the worst day in anyone's memory. When that topic was taken care of, the questions by the airport crowd shifted to Nick.

"Do you have a girlfriend, Nick?" Actually, this question was asked to all of them, but Nick was the one who got it the most. The fact that he was the most hassled over was partly because there had been many rumors surfacing concerning Mandy in the past few months.

"Nick, are you single?"

"Will you marry me, Nick?"

He wasn't in any sort of mood to put up with people such as this. His best friend was in the ICU as they walked to the luggage belt, and all people could care about was whether he was single. Mandy didn't deserve that, he thought. In fact, he should just tell everyone about her now. Yes, she was hard to deal with sometimes, and she became violent every now and then, but, he thought, don't we all have our bad days? Everyone had their ugly side. Even him.

Amanda had warned him, since that now he was a Grammy winner, he should be careful how people treated him. All the fans wanted was sex, sex, sex, she told him once. And he believed her. It was true, he said to himself. God, he sometimes wished he could have a normal life.

During the past few months, he had grown weary, tired, and even fed-up with some of the girls that had encountered him. At times, he didn't know why. Even some of the other Boys had asked him what was up. He seemed down, especially when he hadn't talked to Mandy in a while.

"Damn, you must be like in love with her, man,"A.J. had bellowed once on their tour bus. "She ain't the world, you know. You'll see her soon."

At that, Nick had jumped on him, ready to knock him out.

"Yeah she is the world," he screamed,"so you BETTER shut the fuck up!"

"I-ight, i-ight, i-ight,"he backed up,"I'm sorry!"

Kevin, who was standing in the doorway between the bunks and the video game room in the back, saw the entire thing. Nick was starting to act strange, he observed. Of course the guy was only eighteen years old. He was going through his stages, but this! This! This was a bit peculiar. He had struck him a few times, as well. Nick, once the shy, skinny blond kid whom he always used to share a bed with back in the day when the group first started out, was now becoming a different type of person. A violent person. One that he couldn't quite come to terms with.   


Dr. Phillips High School; Orlando, FL   
13 March 1998   
5h23

Apassionada, along with the cast of "Romeo and Juliet", were in the Dr. Phillips Drama Center, as Mr. Watson, the director, figured out how to block a particular scene in Act III. It was frustrating sometimes, but paid off, when one would be under the heat of the stage lights, performing to a standing room only audience, to hear Juliet, say some of the most famous lines ever written.

"Hey hey everybody! Quiet! This isn't the playground. You wanna monkey around, get the hell outta here! Apassionada!"

"Sorry, sir!"

"Shut the fuck up!" Mr. Watson was a very up-front type of guy.

"Sorry!" She had been talking with a few of the other girls in the play.

"Alright let's run that scene through again."

The company opened in a week and a half, and were putting the final touches on. If Mr. Watson wanted a last minute scene change, or another costume on opening night, so be it. It was done. This wasn't no 'lil kids play. This was business.

The play was to run for four weeks. If it did well with the audience, they'd extend it with an encore. All of the Backstreet Boys were planning to attend on one of the latter weeks, taking the risky chance of getting mobbed by high school students.

"Alright, back to scene two: balcony scene. Apassionada, do your stuff. Now remember, emotion! Put some passion into it, like you've just met God. You're struck. You've never met this wondrous, heavenly, sublime, and handsome man in your life before, and you're in love. You know your entire family hate his ass to no end. But you love him. Do it! I know you can."

Apassionada got up onto the beautifully built balcony of the stage, ready to begin her part, after Romeo, played by Jonathan White, one of DPHS' best and well-respected actors.

As she began her famous line,"O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father, and refuse thy name: Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I'll no longer be a Capulet," Andrew walked through the door. His eyes were filled with a sort of wonder this day, yet anger. She knew him like a book by now.

After the scene was through, Mr. Watson called it quits for the day.

"See you tomorrow everyone," he called.

"Hey," Apassionada greeted.

"You were wonderful,"Andrew said, kissing her. Oh how he loved to. "But then again when aren't you?"

"Alot," she replied.

"I don't think so."   
  
  


Orlando Story-Chapter 20

_Here is the money that I owe you_   
_So you can pay the bills_   
_I will give you more when I get paid again_   
_I hate those people who love to tell you_   
_Money is the root of all that kills_   
_They have never been poor_   
_They have never had the joy of a welfare Christmas_

_I know we will never look back_

_You say you wake up crying_   
_Yes and you don't know why_   
_You get up and you go lay down inside my baby's room_   
_I guess I'm doing okay_   
_I moved in with the strangest guy_   
_Can you believe he actually thinks that I am really alive_

_I will buy you a garden where your flowers can bloom_   
_I will buy you a new car, perfect shiny and new_   
_I will buy you that big house way up in the west hills_   
_I will buy you a new life_   
_Yes I will_

-"I Will Buy You A New Life" by Everclear

Carter Residence; Ruskin, FL   
12 April 1998   
12h31

"Hey Nick?"

"Yeah baby?"

Nick and Mandy were sitting in his backyard, as they often did when they had nothing else to do. Things were finally getting back the way it used to be. The night before, Mandy had had a sleepover at her house, where all of her friends Nikki, Sara, Britney, and others were invited. She had asked Nick to come, mostly to impress everyone. After everyone had left her house, the couple drove over to his place, where she'd spend the night the following day. They tried to spend as much time together as possible, which wasn't much.

Now they laid on the lawn, trying to get some sleep. They'd tickle each other every now and then, or Nick would make some interesting noises which he knew would get her laughing. And then every once in a while, they'd have a conversation here and there.

"Nick, I think that we should buy a house."

"A house?"

"Yes. I mean you're 18, and a successful musician. You've graduated from high school. You shouldn't have to live with your parents. Let's get a place together."

"But you're still a junior!"

"Well yeah. I'm not saying we should move, like far, far away. Here,"she continued, taking out some papers that she had been using as a pillow on the grass,"I found these ads for some properties out in Apollo Beach. I could still go to school that way."

Nick looked at the price for these homes, some even mansions. $1,500,000. $2,500,500. $7,200,200. Apollo Beach was one of the new hot spots and up-and-coming places on the map in Florida for the socially elite. Many golf courses and country clubs could be found there. It could be called the Beverly Hills of the East Coast.

"Wow...they're beautiful," he finally managed to say, unsure if he truly wanted to go ahead and splurge on something such as this at this point in his life. "But do you think we should get something...like this? How about...an apartment?" Actually, he didn't want to move at all. He loved living with his family.

"An apartment in Apollo Beach? I don't even think there's such a thing."

"Well OK...I mean Tampa."

"I don't wanna live in a congested area like that. Apollo Beach is perfect. Think about it! Please?"

"Alright," he finally gave in.

"Good! I'll call to make some appointments," she chimed, taking back the ads.

* * *

By mid-April, Andrew had fully relocated into an oceanside mansion on Miami's South Beach. He would still live in Paris, but now had a place in America, too, for himself and Apassionada. During spring break, she had gone down to Miami to take a look at the place where she'd be spending this summer, and when she graduated.

It was a majestic palace, with tennis courts; a few outdoor swimming pools, as well as an indoor one. It was three levels, with a walk-on roof, which contained one of the pools and spa. The "yard", if it could be considered such, consisted of sprawling green lawns with palm trees bordering not only the property, but the road that led up to the driveway in the front. The shady, bordered entrance turned into a roundabout driveway. The home began with beautiful French doors, standing behind two perfectly aligned palms on each side. The house was white.

The first level was the living room, game room, dining room and kitchen, while the guest bedrooms were on the second. The basement was where the laundry room was located, as well as some extra place for storage. The master bedroom took up the entire top level with skylights. Andrew had had mirrors built on the ceiling over the bed. Included in the master suite was the office and entertainment room, and one could enter into these two side rooms through the elevator instead of through the bedroom.

It seemed that everyone was moving, to Apassionada, as she sat by her window one dreary afternoon. She was on the phone to Andrew, whom she hadn't spoken to since he moved. "So how's Miami Beach?"

"Hey it's great. I love it. When's the soonest you could come down?"

"Probably not till early June. My mother really wants me to study more."

"What courses are you taking this year?"

"English, world history, geometry, Drama 2, biology, and ceramics."

"That's easy! What are you complaining about?"

No, it's not. I suck at biology, history, and math. I like ceramics, english and drama, but I'm about failing in all the other classes."

"Well, you know what? When I was your age, I had to take Latin and German at the same time. It's mandatory for the lycée to take two languages, and since I already spoke English, I had to take those two."

"Why didn't you take English anyways? It'd be an easy way out of a grade!"

"Because everyone knew I was from America."

"Oh...maybe I should take French 5 or something."

"You could do that." "I just wanna see you right now."

"I miss you too."

* * *

"And as you can see, there's a matching set of a brand new dishwasher, oven, and refrigerator. With water and ice, of course. The kitchen is very specious, and has a large cutting board with cuppoard in the center for all your needs. Over here is the dining room."

It was a hot April Saturday, in the late morning, when Nick and Mandy were visiting a beautiful property in Apollo Beach. It was quite large. It had 5 bedrooms, 4 1/2 baths, and a swimming pool, Nick loved it. With a black iron gate (perfect for keeping fans out, AND TAKING HIS GRASS) and a nice cobblestone driveway, surrounded by flamboyant flowers, maybe moving into a home wouldn't be such a bad idea, Nick thought. While the realtor was describing the beautiful view of the pool, he asked,"How much did you say this property was?"

"We're offering it for $1,250,000."

"Is it high maitenance?"

"Oh no, not at all. The location and layout of the property was very well planned. You shouldn't have to worry," he smiled.

"Oh 'cause I'll be away from home alot, and it'll just be Mandy," putting his arms around her," here alot, so..."

"I couldn't think of a more perfect property than this one," said the middle-aged man.

Nick looked down at his girlfriend. "You like it?"

"Yeah, it's great!" Nick set his eyes on the ceiling, either to look at the structure for flaw, or trying to make a decision.

"We'll take it."

"Alright! Congratulations, Mr. Carter,"he lilted, just a bit too perfectly, as he shook hands with the young blond,"let's get started on the paperwork down in my office."   


Carter Residence; Apollo Beach, FL   
13 May 1998   
11h53

"Put those two boxes in the bedroom, and that one...just lay down there."

Mandy, in her new dress, had her hands on her hips. She had absolutely no intention of getting her hands dirty today. While her boyfriend was outside, she was directing the movers where and how to put all the boxes. The furniture would have to be bought brand new, as well as the kitchen appliances and ware. She'd ask Nick about that later.

The first night the young couple spent in their new home, they spent dinner and the evening out on the grand front lawn. Nick had bought a few tiki torches the other day, and set them up to border the garden. They were all lit now, and he and his girl laid on the grass in the middle of them, just like at his old home.

"Look at the sky," she said.

"Wow, that's beautiful. And you can see the stars. It's so clear, at last." Wisps of clouds, shades of violet, pink, blue and green spread across the sky underneath bright stars. The crescent moon laid the final touch on the perfect setting of a Floridan spring evening.

Suddenly a noise came from the near distance. The two turned towards the home to the left in front of their property, since theirs was at the end of the street. A few girls, who had just obviously come out of their swimming pool, were having a water fight.

"Aw, Mandy look," Nick kidded,"there's girls your age here. You can make new friends!"

"Oh shut up!"

"I'm just playin'. They'd probably kill you if they found out you were with me."

"I'd like to see them try."

* * *

The next day, Nick was walking around the neighborhood with Mandy, to become more familiar with the place. The resedential district of Apollo Beach was beautiful and classy. Alot of older people lived there, though it was like that in Ruskin as well. Plus, Nick was used to senior citizens, and enjoyed their company.

They were almost at their home's front gate when a girl came up to him from behind, taking him a bit off guard.

"Excuse me, are you Nick...from the Backstreet Boys?"

"Yes," he said. He was beginning to get annoyed by that question.

"Hi! I'm Valerie," the girl said, offering her hand. He shook it. "You can just call me Val if ya want." The girl had a vivrant bounce to her voice.

"Hi, I'm Nick."

"So you just moved in here?"

"Yeah. Just the other day."

"You'll love it. It's really beautiful, especially during the summertime."

"Oh have you lived here long?"

"Yeah, I'm graduating from University of Tampa soon. These are all my roommates. We share this house together," she pointed out.

As Nick looked up, he saw a bunch of college girls standing on the balcony to their home, pushing to the railing to see their new, and famous neighbor.

"Hey Nick," they all shouted. "Hi Nick!"

"From left to right, that's Megan, Ann, Rebecca, Krista, Colleen, and Aracelli,"she introduced, while pointing them with one hand, as the other shielded her eyes from the sun." He replied,"What's up!"

"Nothin',"Ann answered. "So how do you like your new home so far?"

"Oh I love it. It's very quiet and peaceful. Hopefully it'll stay that way."

"Oh don't worry, we won't tell anyone you're living here!" laughed Aracelli.

"Thanks, I appreaciate that," he replied.

"Oh you're welcome...well if you ever need anything, just pay us a visit."

"Hey thanks."

"Yeah anytime!"

"Alright, I'll see you guys later."

"Bye Nick!"

* * *

That week, the case on Brad and Ian had closed officially. It was a murder-suicide, and that was that. Apassionada tried to get the Martin twins or Evan in as something, for they surely knew something about it, not to mention the many people who had assaulted her for the past two years.

But they didn't do anything. Ian's father didn't want to bring up "old wounds". His actions did not surprise Apassionada; to her he just didn't want to bring up the truth. Peace. Peace. Peace. Would there ever be such a thing, Apassionada thought. She longed for Andrew's touch. Or was it Brad's? Sometimes she could not tell the difference. He haunted her.

In mid-March, after Romeo & Juliet (the most popular hit at DPHS in a long time) closed, Apassionada had gone onto home study again. There was no other reason for her to be reminded of her misery every day. So she stayed at home, and chewed up the phone line talking to Andrew on average of three hours a day while she did her schoolwork.

Right now, all the Boys were coming to town, rehearsing for their first American tour. With special effects, multiple clothes changes, and a pretty nifty set design, it would be full of eye candy. Apassionada planned to get tickets to see them this summer in Miami, for when she was with Andrew, and also, when they became available, Homecoming 1998 tickets. The Backstreet Boys were her second set of parents, as Andrew said. The phone rang in her room, and she knew it was him. She waited for it to ring a couple times, then picked it up.

* * *

"Awwwww! Look at those pugs! Nick! Come here! You have to see these little pug pups they have in the window here! Awwwww...look at the faces!"

Nick and Mandy were in downtown Tampa, going shopping before leaving for Orlando to begin rehearsals for their pending tour. Mandy had spotted a few puppies in a pet shop window. The perfect addition to the house.

"Let's see how much they cost," he decided. Mandy had spent over $20,000 these past few weeks on the house - on his money.

The two went into the store, and of course, as the dogs were pedigrees, they were costly. In the end, however, Nick gave in to both the dogs' and his girlfriend's begging faces.

"They're gonna be perfect in Apollo Beach," she glowed.

"Oh, that's right! I was gonna ask you, what have your parents said about you moving permanently? My mom wants to make sure it's alright with them, 'cause you're still a minor, you know."

She shrugged. "They won't mind, I'm sure," she said disenchantedly. As Nick thought about it for a second, he knew little of her parents. He'd met them a few times, as well as her brother and sisters, but knew hardly anything about them. Mandy rarely spoke of them, and appearantly, they didn't care one way or another about what happened to her or them. Either they were extremely nice, or extremely detached. Either way, something was wrong to Nick.

"Why don't you invite your parents to come visit the house and give it a look," he suggested. That way there'd be some writing in the wall.

"Ehh," she said, still petting the pups,"they're real busy. You know..."

"Oh...yeah." He didn't get it.

They, with their four new playful pugs and tons of dog food and accessories, left the store, and headed back home to Apollo Beach. The sky began to darken, and the pups heightened in volume, perhaps the future might begin to finally brighten for the both of them.   
  
  


Orlando Story-Chapter 21

_You live in a church,_   
_Where you sleep with voodoo dolls_   
_And you won't give up the search,_   
_For the ghosts in the halls_   
_You wear sandals in the snow_   
_And a smile that won't wash away_   
_Can you look out the window_   
_Without your shadow getting in the way_   
_You're so beautiful_   
_With an edge and charm_   
_And so careful,_   
_When I'm in your arms_

_Because you're working,_   
_Building a mystery_   
_Holding on, and holding in_   
_Yeah you're working,_   
_Building a mystery_   
_And choosing so carefully_

_You wake up screaming aloud,_   
_A prayer from your secret god_   
_You feed off our fears,_   
_And hold back your tears... oh,_   
_You give us a tantrum,_   
_And a know-it-all grin_   
_Just when we need one,_   
_When the evening's thin_   
_You're a beautiful, A beautiful, fucked up man_   
_You're setting up your_   
_Razor wire shrine_

_Because you're working,_   
_Building a mystery_   
_Holding on, and holding in_   
_Yeah you're working,_   
_Building a mystery_   
_And choosing so carefully_

-"Building A Mystery" by Sarah McLachan

Corsica Residence; Miami Beach, FL   
11 June 1998   
13h59

Apassionada, who recently had gotten her driver's license, pulled up into her boyfriend's driveway in her brand new Corvette convertible. The drive down had been one of the most aesthetic experiences of her life, the Florida coastline in view. Just past noon, she arrived on South Beach just in time. Andrew's butler, John, came out to greet her, and showed her in, carrying her bags.

"Please have a seat, Madame, Mr. Corsica should be here shortly. In the meantime, may I get you something to drink?"

"Oh no thank you," she politely said, taking off her sunglasses as she came into the mansion. She sat down on the black leather couch in the living room. Andrew appeared a few moments later through the back porch.

"Hey baby,"he whispered, kissing her, leaning over from behind the couch. He still hadn't cut his hair. That was alright with Apassionada however, since he looked so adorable with his hair getting in his eyes, like Nick. Though with Nick, it was more of a problem. Brian always joked about him needing to get a headband.

For the past few months, Apassionada and some of the other girls had done an intensive study, talking night after night about how Nick and Andrew looked practically like twins. However, they had concluded, that Andrew's skin was a bit darker, and his hair's natural color was a bit more lighter than Nick's. Andrew was also alot more mature.

"Oh my God," she exclaimed,"you got a dog?" She immediately thought of Nick's brand new pugs, whom he brought to show her at rehearsals. Andrew's puppy was a little Doberman pinscher, with a shiny and elegant black and tan coat. It already had its sharp teeth. It was just about the size of Nick's pugs, since it was still a pup.

"What's its name?" she asked.

"I haven't named her yet. I was waiting till you came to decide."

"Hmmm...how about Ebony?"

"That's a beautiful name," he said, petting the pup's sheeny coat.

"I was planning on getting a cat."

"Well why don't we go get one," he suggested. "It could be white, and we'll name her Ivory."

"Hey yeah! An Angora cat. They're so beautiful. Why don't we go right now?

"Hey you know what?" He was obviously being sarcastic. "That's a great idea!"

"Let me just freshen up first."

"No, you don't have to," he grinned, taking her by the hand. He led her up to their room.

There, Apassionada saw their bedroom, the grand room on the third floor, from which she remembered during her first trip down here. The beuatiful white walls reflected the sunlight of the skylight, and the white carpeting gave the room a sense of purity. Abstract paintings lined the walls, and an extravagent modern, yet futuristic-looking iron abstract sculpture stood in the center of a circular fishtank near the bathrooms (there were two; one for him and one for her in the master bedroom).

Apassionada heard a "meow" suddenly. The next thing she knew, Andrew was holding the most cutest little Turkish Angora kitten. It had the most beautiful snow white coat, which was long, like a winter coat. It's eyes - one blue and one orange - as some Angoras were - were big and wondrous. It looked exactly like the cat in all the Sheba kitten food commercials, only thinner and more elegant looking.

"It's alright if I name her Ivory?"

"As long as your want her to be called that."

"OK, it's Ivory."

"Great, now let's have some lunch. Ocean Drive sound good?"

"Ocean Drive sounds perfect."   


Carter Residence; Apollo Beach, FL   
5 July 1998   
17h14

Nick was going through his bedroom closet, picking out the things that should go into his luggage for the US tour. The first show kicked it all off in three days in Charlotte, NC.

"Hey Nick?"

"How much clothing do I need to bring for the tour?"

"What?" Nick was confused beyond belief. Mandy had brought this into light for the first time. Did she actually mean she intended to go on tour with him?

"How much clothing do I need to bring on the tour?"

"For the tour? Mandy...," trying to find a tactful way out of this, for she knew she'd get mad. "I don't think it will possible for you to go on tour with me."

"Why not?" She began to pout.

"Well, you know! Like I said, management doesn't want the people to know that we have girlfriends."

"We've been together for almost two years! With Leighanne or Kristin, yeah, but what about me? I deserve some recognition." She was almost crying, and he knew she was doing it forcefully to make him feel bad.

"Baby, I'm sorry,"he said, coming towards her. She knew his moves like a book. He'd try and con his way out of yet another thing. She unwrapped one of her arms from her chest, and slapped him. She knew almost for sure he'd be shocked. But this time, it was her who was in for a surprise.

As soon as her hand touched his face, he came back with retaliation, slapping her across the face with the back of his strong hand. She gasped with horror.

"How dare you slap a woman!"

Dr. McCoy's voice came back to him immediately. "How dare you slap me!"he yelled. "What goes for the goose, goes for the gander! So there."

"Bullshit! You don't slap a woman,"she tried to yell, but tears came instead. "How could you?"

A red spot began to form on the side of her face, and he let down his guard. "I - I - I - I'm sorry,"he squeaked. "I didn't mean it - I didn't know what I was..." He took her in his arms. "I'm sorry...I'm sorry...I promise never to do it again...I'm sorry..."

"I'm sorry,"she replied, but he didn't know whether she was admonishing or requiting him.

That night, Nick went to sleep late, on the floor of his living room. A cut went down the side of his forehead, which Johnny Wright would later comment on. A small, yet still quite appearant purplish-orange bruise marred his left shoulder blade.

Upstairs, Mandy slept. Nick laid on the ground, his blanket covering him, as he heard his girlfriend tearing through his things upstairs. Tomorrow, all his luggage and their contents would be all over the floor, a testmony to him from Mandy, that she should be able to tour the country with him. Yes, she knew her parents would not let her go, but that was one of the reasons why she wanted to.   


Charlotte Coliseum; Charlotte, NC   
8 July 1998   
11h47

"Tommy, you wanna start on 'We've Got It Goin' On'?"

"Yeah sure, let's do it."

The BSB's band got all tuned, and everyone was ready to begin sound check and rehearsals. They opened the first show of their first major American tour tonight. All the guys were clearly nervous. Sound check lasted till about half past four, when the Boys went backstage to sleep for a few hours before getting ready to go onstage.

At around five that evening, Nick's family arrived. They were all excited to see the show. Like in Homecoming, they'd be performing songs from both the European albums. After hanging around for a while, Nick came out of his room to get his clothes and make-up on, before hooking up the microphoness. He saw his mother down the hallway.

"Mom! You made it!"

"Nick! Hey sweetheart," she said, kissing his cheek. As Charlotte was always hot this time of the year, she dressed lightly and casually, which was pretty similar to what was in Florida in July. "You getting ready to get dressed?"

"Yeah. Wow it's hot. I need to take this sweatshirt off." Even though the sun was beginning to set, it was still almost 80 degrees. Nick pulled off his sweatshirt, and his mother saw he was wearing a white wife-beater underneath, though what had caught her eyes was something else.

"What's this?"

"What? Oh that...I, uh, bumped my shoulder at my house. Right before I left," he said flatly, fingering the mark on his shoulder.

"And what happened here?"

"Mom! I'm not 5 years old," he laughed off. His mother had pushed back his long locks, revealing his other scar. "Don't worry about it. I'm not gonna die or anything. It was just an accident."

"An accident? What, did you fall?"

"Yeah, well...sorta. I slipped. On some water that spilled in the kitchen. Mandy dropped a glass of water, and I offered to help her with it, and I slipped."

"Uh-huh."

"Yeah. So is she here?"

"Mandy? Yeah, she's outside the gates. She'll be here. And some of your friends are here, too. Brent, Zach, Mercedes and Jaclyn are here with us."

"That's great! I can't wait to see them. We got some catching up to do."

* * *

Jane Carter walked out of the backstage area, and out into the front row where her seat was. Her husband, three daughters, her son's girlfriend, her son's friends, and her other son were all around her. Her son's girlfriend had also taken upon herself to bring a couple of her friends as well. Not too far away were some of the other Backstreet Boys' families and friends. Since this was their opening night, the Backstreet Boys had decided to invite all those closest to them to mark the event.

Jane sat down in her seat, a little distraught. Apassionada Cunningham, a friend of the entire Carter family, sat directly behind her, next to Cassy and Kristin Lorraine. For a while, as girls of all ages buzzed around with their Backstreet merchandise and signs milled around, she sat in her seat, fidgeting with her purse's clasp. Her husband Bob finally noticed, and took his wife's arm. "Sweetheart, you alright?"

"What?" She was taken back. "Oh! I'm fine, honey, I'm just...thinking. That's all."

"Alright."

She looked around to see where Amanda was. About ten seats away from her. Good. She turned around.

"Apassionada?"

"Yeah!" She was comparing toenails with Kristin.

"May I ask you something?"

"Yeah sure!"

"Have you seen Nick behaving weirdly lately?"

"Like how?"

"Well...and forgive me if I sound crazy, but," she began to whisper, as her husband began to listen as well,"I've noticed that Nick's been acting really strange for a while now. I can't describe it, it's just there. Like, he's changed. I mean, he's a teenager, and teenagers change at this point in their life, not to mention he's been travelling the world like crazy. But there's something which just doesn't fit in." She lowered her voice even more. "I keep seeing these cuts and bruises on his body. I don't know where they come from. I mean, he's always been a crazy boy, but lately, I keep seeing a lot of marks on him. It's beginning to worry me."

"What do you think it could be? I mean..." trying to sound as innocent of the knowledge as possible, since who knows? This could just be a cover-up for her, to make her believe that his mother was innocent, she thought, rememebering her conversation with Brian. "...I hate to say this, but do you think -- oh what the hell I just might as well get it over with -- do you think Mandy has been hitting him?"

"Mandy? Mandy? She's so small! How could..."

"I mean, I've seen them fight before, I know that for a fact. She gets very mad. She thought he was cheating on her, and I know for a fact that that's not true. He loves that girl, but I saw how mad she was, and she just blew up in his face. She tried to push him, but he's too big for her. But she-" Tears welled up in her eyes. Bob got out his handkerchief.

"Oh, Mrs. Carter," Apassionada soothed in her sweet-as-honey Southern-black accent,"I'm sure he'll be fine. Ask him about it. Maybe it's something else. Just talk with him and try to see what's going on. Just don't be too intrusive." Suddenly, she felt herself telling her friend's own mother how to handle him. She began to feel that maybe her mother was innocent after all.

"But he'll get mad. You know how moody he is sometimes? He'll just think I'm being too protective of him."

"Well then ask his friends. Try and find out as much as you can without being intrusive of his personal life. You still have a right to know about his well-being."

"Alright...thank you."

After the show, Jane would go up to Zach, Mercedes, Brent, and Jaclyn. She asked them if Nick was acting weird lately, and if they happened to know how he got the bruise on his shoulder, the cut on his head, and not to mention the scrapes on his forearm which had appeared a few months back, and a bruise and cut on his face a while before that.

Brent said that he had taken notice of the cuts on his forearm a while ago, saying that Nick said he got it from Mandy's cat; Nikki, a friend of Mandy's who was at the show that night, pointed out that Mandy didn't own a cat.

"Oh well, that's what he told me," Brent said, confused. "Maybe she used to have one?"

"Nope."

* * *

On August 4th, Apassionada, all her friends, family, along with a couple thousand of other young people, crowded around the Orlando City Hall as Glenda Hood, the city's mayor, gave the five young men of the Backstreet Boys the keys to the city. The crowd roared as signs and banners for them rung in the air.

The guys gave a warm acceptance speech, not only for the keys, but for being honored for helping some Floridian victims to natural disasters in the past year. Finally, they announced that there would officially be a Homecoming 1998 concert.

Ghetto blasters bumped BSB songs everywhere that day, and people were decorating their cars for the celebrations. Amidst the frenzy of the crowd, Jane had found Apassionada again.

"Apassionada! Apassionada," she called, till she heard her.

"Jane! Hey, how are you?" she asked, meeting up with her in the street.

"I'm doing great! How are you?"

"I'm alright. I'm kinda sad summer's almost over though."

"Oh yeah that's right, you'll be a...junior this year?"

"Yup! Two more years!"

"Which college are you planning to attend?"

"I don't know if I'll be going to college. I was thinking on continuing modeling."

"Oh that's great! You're a beautiful girl."

She blushed,"Thanks."

"Hey, I was wondering if I could talk to you about what we were saying up in North Carolina."

"Oh! Yeah...did you find anything out?"

"Yes, Brent said that Nick said he got some scratches on his arm from Mandy's cat. Then another one of his friends said that Mandy doesn't have a cat! And that scratch on his forehead last month? I decided to ask Mandy, you know? I casually started a conversation with her, and when I asked her about the cuts, she just turned dead cold. She was scared, it seemed. I don't know...I think something's wrong." Mrs. Carter caught herself, disappointed. Apassionada looked deep in thought. "I hope I'm not being too intrusive or anything, you know. I just thought I'd share some of my thoughts with you-"

"Oh no, no. I don't mind at all. Actually, I'm glad you said this to me. I really am concerned about him."   
  
  


Orlando Story - Chapter 22

_Your little body's slowly breaking down_   
_You're losing speed, you're losing strength! Not style._   
_That goes flourishing on forever_   
_But your eyes, your smile_   
_You do not have the sparkle of your fantastic past_   
_If you climb one more mountain, it could be your last._

_I'm not that ill_   
_Bad moments come, but they go_   
_Some days are fine, some a little bit harder_   
_But that doesn't mean we should give up our dream_   
_Have you ever seen me defeated?_   
_Don't you forget what I've been through and yet_   
_I'm still standing_

_Eva, you are dying..._

_So what happens now?_   
_Where am I going to?_

_Don't ask anymore..._

-"Your Little Body's Slowly Breaking Down" by Madonna and Jonathan Pryce

Sheraton Walt Disney World Swan & Dolphin; Orlando, FL   
6 August 1998   
10h54

"Come! Come quick! He doesn't have that much energy. He can only do so much in a day...It was good of you to come, Brian. But do you think that he can handle going into the studio once more?"

"I know so. He did it once, he can do it again."

Brian was running down the halls of the Sheraton, near Walt Disney World downtown of the city, closely behind Eva, the girlfriend of Dag "Dagge" Volle, better known to the entire world as Denniz PoP. This was undoubtedly the last time the famous producer would see the American shores. He was here to visit for the last time; he was terminally ill.

A few months back, Brian had given Denniz a packet full of sheet music to a song he had written. He wanted Denniz to produce it for him. Rok had written it for Apassionada, so she might be able to come to terms with the grief which had overtaken her these past few months. Over the time that had passed, Brian had changed his mind, and written a completely different set of lyrics to the song, and now he didn't know which one to do. It was going to possibly be on the next American album, even a single. This was tricky though, as none of the Backstreet Boys' management didn't even know he had written such a song, let alone was about to record it.

At the end of a long corridor, Eva came to a stop. She took out her card, and ran it through the lock.

"He's in here."

On the bed inside the dark hotel room, lay a husky man with long blond hair. He was in weak condition. Brian's pain went straight to his heart. This man, which he known and loved for so many years, had wasted away right before his eyes, yet he refused to believe he was dying. Brian could be saved: he went through heart surgery for the lost and delayed times TransContinental made him wait to milk more money off of him. That didn't matter now. They were suing their asses. What Lou Pearlman had done to him was what Denniz's own dedication and passion to his career did to himself. And this time, he couldn't fix it. He was dying.

"Brian, you came!" His voice was weak and feeble croak.

"Hey man," Brian sniffed, trying to keep back the tears. This was an injustice. "How - how are you?" He propped one of his knees onto the bed, his folder of music in his hand.

"Doin' great man!" They both smiled, perhaps to bring some joy into the moment, or maybe because they both knew he was lying.

"You sure you wanna do this?"

"I'm sure. It's a beautiful song, and I'd be honored to produce it for you. As a departing gift? Something to remember me by. Hm?"

"Yes. I shall remember you."

"Did you get a date at Parc Studios?"

"Tomorrow. At nine in the morning. Would that be fine?"

"Perfect. I'll rest today, then I'll go out tomorrow. How's the rest of the guys?"

"They're great, but they're worried about you producing this song. They don't want you to overwork yourself."

"Don't worry about me! How about Apassionada?"

"She's still not over it. She's got Andrew, the Frenchman, but still, she's still in mourning when she comes home at night. I don't think she can let go of him."

"Did you explain to her that it is not her fault? She didn't pull that trigger; she was just at the wrong place at the wrong time."

"I know. We've told her time after time. She really loved him. He died too young." Brian caught what he had just said. Denniz was 35 himself.

"It was kind of you to write this song for her."

"She wasn't the only person I wrote this song for."

"Nick?"

"I just can't figure it out, Denniz!" Now Brian broke, crying on the edge of the bed. Eva was over in the corner of the room, looking out at the Floridian city, trying to shut everything in the room out. "He came over to my place yesterday with a bruise on his neck. His girlfriend was there, so I didn't say anything. I know something's going on. I just can't understand what. It's someone. He's not just playing football with his friends, or getting cut up playing "Cowboys and Indians". Someone's hitting him. I don't know what to do."

"The music will take care of it all, my friend. The truth will see it through for you. The truth will set you free."

"I know. That's why I need your help in this song, but only if you're up to it."

"If I keel over in the studios, it'll be because my time has expired on the meter, my friend, not because I produced your song!"

Brian smiled. "So you like it?"

"I love it. I couldn't have written it better myself. So which version do you want to record?" Brian had written two versions of his song: one for Nick and one for Apassionada, and he loved them both the same.

"What you feel is better."

"I'll do both then. Bring your lunches,"the Swede smiled.

"Both?"

"Yes. They're equally beautiful."

"Oh...alright. If you want to, we'll do both."

"Good! I'll see you tomorrow at Parc Studios."

"Hey man, you get some rest, you hear? Take care of yourself," Brian ordered, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry, I will." Denniz took his hand.

"See you tomorrow."

"See you."   


Littrell Residence   
6 August 1998   
19h21

"Hey Apassionada." Brian was on the phone with her, who was coming in from Miami to see Denniz PoP the next day. He sat in the office of his home, while Nick and Mandy, his two guests for the next week or so, were watching TV in the living room.

"Hey Brian. Has he arrived from Stockholm?"

Mandy got up from the couch and came over to the office, wanting to ask Brian something. She waited outside the door, upon seeing he was on the phone.

"Yeah, I just went to see him in his hotel."

"How is he?"

"He looks bad. Really bad."

"Why does he want to do this song so bad?"

"Because he wants to do it. For you. And Nick."

Mandy listened closer.

"Me?"

"I wrote this song for you."

"What song?"

"The one we're going to record. You'll hear it tomorrow."

"What's it about? What's it sound like?" "What about Nick?"

"That's the other thing."

"What's he been up to lately?"

"Nothing. Except he's got this bruise on his neck. I'm gonna try and take a group picture of us, because Mandy's here too, so I don't wanna say anything in front of her."

"Yeah, I think we've pretty much ruled out Jane. She doesn't seem the type, though you never really know."

"Yeah, so I'm gonna get a picture of us, a close-up. So I can get some evidence of Nick's bruise."

"You da man, Bond!"

"Well, Penny," he said in a perfect English accent,"but seriously!"

"Is that possible with you?"

"Usually not, but I can be when the occasion calls for it."

"I sure hope this is one of them."

"It is. Why would she abuse him? What does he have that she wants so badly?" Brian rang his fingers through his hair, as if it could comb away his anxiety of the situation at hand.

"It's usually learned behavior. She was probably abused as a child, or she wants his money."

"Oh well, I won't plunge into anything. We'll sit back and see what happens."

"Alright, I gotta get goin' to the Airport for my flight. See you tomorrow, Rok."

"Bye Pash."

Brian hung up the phone, tore off a sheet of his notepad, and proceded to walk back to the living room. Mandy ran back from whence she came.   


Parc Studios; Orlando, FL   
7 August 1998   
8h45

It was a clear early morning, and signs showed that it was going to be another summer scorcher in Orlando. Apassionada, with a cup of iced mocha from the nearest Starbucks, as well as some snacks and drinks for everyone else, walked into Parc Studios. "What's up guys?"

"Hey Pash!" all the guys said. In one of the booths, she saw a young, yet ill man. Denniz. He looked up from the switchboards and got up, but quickly fell. Apassionada ran into the room, but a girl was already there to help him up.

"Denniz, vous vous souviens de moi?" _"Denniz, do you remember me?"_ She had met him in Europe several times, before she was that well known. They spoke in French.

"Bien sûr!""Of course!" He laughed, getting back into his chair. "Apassionada! Puis-je oublier? Salut! Comment allez-vous?" _"Apassionada! Am I able to forget? Hello! How are you?"_

"Je vais bien. Et vous? Vous avez besoin de n'importe quoi?" _"I am fine. And you? Do you need anything?"_

"Je vais comme-ci comme-ça. Merci, mais je vais bien. S'il vous plaît, restez-ici et regarde-nous!" _"I am so-so. Thank you, but I am fine. Please, stay here and watch us!"_

She looked over into the other room and saw Brian, whom she smiled to. She looked back, and saw that Mandy was there too. Oh boy, she thought. The dirty looks began already. But today, that would all be cast aside. Today was for Denniz, and it was his alone. And it was for him to spend the very last days of his life doing what he loves. About half an hour later, the recording began. The lights in the studio turned on.

"Yeah, eah..."

"You are my fire, the one desire, believe when I say, I want it that way," Brian sang. Nick took up the second verse. The chorus was what stuck in Apassionada's mind. She couldn't have put it into better words herself. "Tell me why - Ain't nothin' but a heartache, Tell me why - Ain't nothin' but a mistake, Tell me why - I never wanna hear you say, I Want It That Way..."

A.J. sang the third voice, and his raspy voice enraptured the sound of the instruments. The harmonies on this song were so tight, for just a moment in time, she either heard a gospel choir or one singular, solitary and golden voice resonating. Kevin sang the bridge, which was actually one of the few times he actually did get to sing the lead part. Howie finished off with a variation of the first verse so sweetly.

Apassionada sat there, mesmerized. This was the new "Darlin' ". This was the next wave. So this was what he had meant. She wondered what Mandy thought about it, or whether she even had the slightest clue as to what this song meant.

After a fifteen minute break, everyone filed back into the studio to record the other version, which was actually the first one that Brian wrote. The lyrics were just as powerful, but since she had heard the second one first, she favored that one. She watched Denniz, as he worked his genius into each and every sound he had to incorporate, and it incorporated into perhaps the most beautiful love song she had ever heard.

It was the song of the dead. The song of the dying. One man about to, producing a song about a girl's lover, whom he had never known though soon would, that was written by a man that twice could have, but had been saved.

After each session, Apassionada rushed out to hug Brian, for this was truly the most precious gift she had ever been given. More important than any amount of money or piece of jewelry, this was what she had always wanted. Love.

"My work has finished," Denniz said, in the mid-afternoon of that day, as the final touches of post-producation to both the tracks had been made. "Brian, thank you. I enjoyed doing this." The two men shook hands, then afterwards, to the rest of the people.

"Thank you," Brian said. "It means alot." The look in which Brian had on his face was incomprehensible, indefinite. One no one she was sure had ever seen before.

"Thank you," Apassionada whispered, as if she had just remembered something.

The career of Denniz PoP was over.

* * *

On the 30th, he was gone.

Brian called Saturday evening, when it was already early Sunday morning in Sweden. The man had tears in his eyes, eyes that had shown Apassionada strength, beauty, purity and honor for the past year of her life. She could see them in her mind's eyes now.

Denniz had been admitted into the Karolinska Hospital in Stockholm, Sweden last week. He had spent most of his last days there in suffering, while nurses and doctors tried to ease his pain to no avail. Cancer was hard to keep down once it had spread terminally. Impossible to stop.

Alas, he gave up in the twilight hours of a Sunday morning, as DJs across the nation were taking a moment in silence in memory of him as they spoke. This all had happened less than an hour ago, and Brian called Apassionada as one of the first to know.

"I hope he died in peace," she cried.

"What matters in the end is that he is in peace now. And nothing can change that. For better or worse. He's in a happier place."

"May I find that place."

"Might we all."   
  
  


Orlando Story - Chapter 23

_They never laugh like that before_   
_She takes the keys, he breaks the door_   
_She cannot stay here anymore_   
_He's not in love with her anymore_

_He takes a drink, she goes inside_   
_He starts to scream, the vases fly_   
_He wishes that she wouldn't cry_   
_He's not in love with her anymore_

_He makes demands, she draws the line_   
_He starts the fight, she starts the lie_   
_But what is truth when something dies_   
_He's not in love with her anymore_

-"Till Death Do Us Part" by Madonna   


_How come, how long_   
_It's not right, it's so wrong_   
_Do we let it just go on_   
_Turn our backs and carry on_   
_Wake up, for it's too late_   
_Right now, we can't wait_   
_She won't have a second try_   
_Open up your hearts_   
_As well as your eyes_

-"How Come, How Long" by Babyface featuring Stevie Wonder

Summers Residence; Orlando, FL   
14 September 1998   
4h02

It was a few weeks after Apassionada returned to Orlando from Miami. She decided to take Ivory with her, while Ebony would stay with Andrew. She had grown so used to being with Andrew, though it was only for a couple months, that she hated being back home. She still stayed on home study; she wasn't sure if she could ever have the mental capability to go back and face everyone at Dr. Phillips.

Andrew always called at five in the evening, to see what was going on, and they never got tired of each other's company. They'd always find something to talk about, even if it was nothing. Now they were on the phone, almost the state apart from each other. Andrew was having second thoughts.

"So what's going on with your "Boys"?"

"Oh they're doing alright.They're suing their management, did ya hear that? They're touring right now, but their gonna be going to court."

"Over what?"

"They claim that Lou Pearlman held back money from them. I believe them. People in this business are just bloodsuckers these days."

"That's believable. I wouldn't want some people having my face on pillows and diaries, though. So what are they going to do, get a new record label?"

"No, just new management, I think. Right now, they're independent, which I think is kinda cool."

"Yeah, better than that fat dude."

"Oh Lou Pearlman? Yeah, I always thought he was rather nice. I mean, he helped me into the music industry when you think about it, but I mean, he's really two-faced from the ways I hear the guys talk about him. Well now at least."

"Well, all I can say is that people are decieving."

Apollo Beach, FL   
27 September 1998   
18h21

Aracelli, now a sophomore at the University of Tampa, was looking out her window at Nick Carter's home, where he had just come home from yet another tour. It wasn't like her to spy on the neighbors; in fact, she had never ever done it in her life. Today was different.

Nick and his "girlfriend" (she wasn't sure, no one was really, but there'd been rumors) were out on the lawn now, fighting pretty vigorously. It was soon turning physical.

"Hey Val?"

"What?"

"Come over here."

Valerie Marie came in from the adjacent bedroom.

"What is it?"

"Come look! Look, Nick's back from the tour. Ann said she spoke to him a few days ago, and he was acting sorta weird. Look out there now-"

Val came over just in time to see a piece of the action.

"Oh my God! Oh my-" Aracelli jumped in shock. Nick had just slapped the blonde girl with whom he had been fighting. And pretty hard, it could be heard from where the both of them were standing.

He continued to yell to the girl for quite some time, ranting about how "she'd caused him more heartache than he could bear". The girl came up to him a few moments later, and knocked him a right hook square in the mouth. He began to bleed.

"Damnnnn...,"said Rebecca, who was now in this as well,"peoples got some problems."

"He's bleeding...pretty badly. Who is that girl?"

"I dunno. But she's starting to bug the hell out of me."

A few minutes later, the couple went back inside, and soon, the girl that gave Nick the bloody mouth was walking outside rather swiftly. She was carrying a suitcase in her hand. She got into her car, and left.

"Uh oh," said Megan, who was too by now, looking at the commotion. "I think somebody just broke up."   


Carter Residence; Apollo Beach, FL   
27 September 1998   
19h15

"Oh my God oh my God oh my God oh my God oh my God oh my God," Nick chanted to himself, his hands cupped over his mouth, like in prayer. He rocked back and forth on his living room couch. Of all the turmoil he had been through these past two years, he'd have thought he'd have been the one to end things. He had been wrong. The telephone rang amidst the darkness some time later.

"Hello?"

"Hey Nick?"

"Mandy?"

"No, it's Apassionada."

"Oh. Hi," he managed to fumble.

"What's wrong?"

"Oh noth-nothing."

"It sounds like you've been crying. Are you sure?"

He let out a few helpless whimpers, then broke into endless tears. "Apassionadaaaaaa..."

"What? What happened? What's wrong, Nick?" She immediatedly thought of Mandy. Something must have happened.

"Man-Man-Mandy...she just broke up with me."

"She did? She? She broke up with you? I'm sorry!" He continued to cry. "I know exactly how you feel."

"What? You? An-Andrew? He-"

"Oh no! No, I didn't mean that. Like with Brad and everything," she laughed,"and all that shit I had to put up with that year. That's what I meant. Andrew and I are still together."

"She just packed her suitcase and left."

"Maybe she was just mad. She'll probably be back."

"You think so?"

"Probably. Women are kinda fickle sometimes, Nick. Need to learn that! But I doubt if things are gonna just be over with between you two," trying to sound as real as possible. Deep down inside, she was wiping sweat off her forehead. Thank God that was over and done with! He needed to move on, seriously, she thought.

"I hope so....what did you call me about?"

"Oh, I'm having a Halloween party. Are you guys gonna be available? I'll send out the invitations if all y'all aren't gonna be out on tour or anything."

"Hey sure! I'd love to go. I'll be free. We'll be recording for the new album."

"Great! You'll be recieving something soon, then."

"OK. That's so cool," Nick smiled. Suddenly, he was in better spirits once more. "It's been ages since I've been to a Halloween party."

"Well I'll see you then. It'll be a sleepover by the way. If you want to, that is. You can leave if you want before."

"Oh no, I'll sleep over. That'll be cool."

"OK see ya. Hope you feel better."

"Bye."

* * *

A few days later, she came to the place she once called home. How could she be without it? Without him? She knocked on the door. He appeared a moment later, his face glowing immediately once laying his blue eyes upon her.

"Mandy!"

"Oh Nick, I'm sorry. What have I done? I should've never left."

"I know. You're telling me?" he smiled.

"Listen, I'll move back in. As long as it's alright with you..."

"Of course it's fine. Come on in."

They unpacked her things together, in silence. An awkward calm came over both of them. After all her belongings were put back in their old place, they went down into the kitchen to grab something to eat for lunch.

"Oh and Nick, one more thing."

"Yeah? Anything..."

"There's this stereo system I've had my eye on for quite some time..."   
  
  


Orlando Story - Chapter 24

_Tu crois que le monde est à toi (You believe that the world belongs to you)_   
_Qu'il t'appartient (That it is owned by you)_   
_C'est ta chose, tu en disposes (That's your thing, you use it)_   
_Sans qu'il n'en reste rien (Without that nothing stays)_   
_Avide et gourmand, tu prends (Eager and greedy, you take)_   
_Peu importe demain (Of little importance tomorrow)_   
_Demain (Tomorrow)_   
_S'il reste un lendemain (If there is another day)_   
_Je le veux en paix pour les miens (I want it in peace for my own)_

_Demain demain demain (Tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow)_   
_S'il reste un lendemain (If there is another day)_   
_Demain demain demain (Tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow)_   
_Je le veux en paix pour les miens (I want it in peace for my own)_   
_Demain demain demain (Tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow)_   
_Que voleras-tu demain (What are will you steal tomorrow)_   
_Demain demain demain (Tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow)_   
_La paix de miens (Peace of my own)_

-"Demain" by Les Nubians

As soon as the BSB got off tour, they had a one week vacation. Then it was back to work. Their new album was to drop around this time now, but since Brian's surgery, Denniz's passing, the lawsuits and other factors, it had been delayed and was set for release in Spring of 1999. On another note, Kevin had made his runway debut alongside Apassionada by doing the Versace Spring/Summer 1999 Ready-To-Wear show back in October.

So far, they had recorded "I Want It That Way", and a few other tracks waiting to be given the go-ahead for the final product. Those included "My Heart Stays With You", a song Howie had performed as his solo at the 1998 Homecoming - Live in Orlando. Nick had recorded a studio version of "Heaven In Your Eyes", only it was redone as "I Need You Tonight".

Also already recorded, or in the process of being so, were tracks like "It's Gotta Be You", which A.J. and Brian had a help in doing, and "Don't Wanna Lose You Now". All the guys were going to contribute a large amount of input into this next album, as their music and image matured, as well as new management. Near the end of 1998, they had found a management firm, simply titled, "The Firm, INC." and decided to take them on as of January 1st of the last year of the millennium.

Homecoming 1998 was just as good as the previous years, with some changes. "That's What She Said" had been performed as Brian's solo, and Kevin sang "Nobody But You", an old track from the first European album. The sound of that song had brought back many memories to Apassionada and Kristin, for they were one of the first to know of it. Though now, many of American fans were beginning to purchase import titles.

A.J.'s solo was "Lay Down Beside Me", a rather raunchy B-Side song. It got the audience stirred, that was for sure. The overall repertoire this year was very diverse. "Everybody", the title track to their European sophomore album was the finale this year, right after "Darlin' ". What set this concert apart from last year's was that this one was to be shown on Pay-Per-View sometime soon to the entire country.   


Dorough Residence; Orlando, FL   
6 January 1999   
10h01

As a Homecoming after-party, everyone went out to Hard Rock again. This time Andrew had came with all his friends, even the female ones. Claudia, an Orlando native and friend of one of Andrew's friends, had caught the eye of Howie, and Andrew had them introduced to each other.

Only one year ago, they had been made nominees. Next thing, they were winners. Then came the sold-out world tour, with a brand new, not to mention better management. But what was one's social and secular life without a personal one?

Howie hadn't had a girlfriend in a while, wanting to take some time to find himself after the passing of his dear sister Caroline, to the disease of Lupus last September 12. The following days of that incident, they had cancelled a few shows, as thousands of letter poured into the BSB fan club to help Howie through that difficult time in his life.

It was now early January, and Howie sat at his kitchen's bar, peering out at a rainy Orlando day. He wasn't sick or depressed, he was simply...not there. Something about life bored him lately. This city was where he had grown up in, where countless memories had accumluated over the past quarter century. Claudia was coming over soon, but he didn't want to see her.

Right now he wanted to think things through. He had gone to bed late last night, after coming back from a dinner with the Boys, and a few other celebrities. He too, by now with all the others, had admitted to having girlfriend or not. Their new management had permitted that.

Mandy had made quite a scene there, especially after some girls came over for Nick. He tried to play off his girlfriend's behavior as much as possible, but it was quite evident something was wrong. It obviously wasn't the first time she had done something of this sort.

Later, in the lobby of the restaurant, Howie had gone out to meet up with Nick, for he was going to drop off the couple at their hotel before retiring for the night. He turned the corner just in time to see the two at the end of the hallway where the restrooms were located. Mandy's face was red. The moment Howie saw that, she slapped Nick's face so loud that it could be heard all the way down the hall. It made the timbre of a twig snapping. A very large twig. Howie immediately turned away, pretending he didn't see what had happened. After signing a few autographs, he walked up to the couple, as if nothing had happened, and asked if they were ready to go. Nick clearly had a red slap spot on his neck.

"Yeah, we're ready," Nick said, clearly annoyed by something. Howie tried to keep his eyes away from Mandy and the spot on Nick's face, and left the restaurant.

The doorbell at Howie's bachelor pad rang. Claudia. He ran to get it. Perhaps he could be able to talk things over with her.

* * *

What a difference one year makes! What a difference one second makes! It was raining. Raining hard. Apassionada sat at the grave of Brad Livingston at the Greenwood Cemetery, with a bouquet of lilies for him.

"Hey Brad," she spoke. Her tears mixed in with the rainwater that had fallen upon her face. "How are you? I won a Grammy. I guess that's old news, but I thought you should know. Brian wrote a song about you, about us. Denniz PoP produced it, the last one that he did. I guess he's up there with you now. Or maybe you're looking up at him as you're looking up to me, from where you are. Where are you? Where did you go? Ian's on the other side of this place. I hope you is happy. I found my father. Can you believe it? Papa lives down in St. Cloud. Your mother came to the funeral, so I heard. Didn't meet her, though. Nope. Your father was too busy kicking me out to see..."

A long silence.

"Why couldn't you have stopped things, Brad? It didn't have to be this way! You could be off in Korea or Africa right now, sailin' the world. Why did you..."

Apassionada broke down and cry, and laid her head against the tombstone which marked her dead ex-boyfriend's grave. He was buried underground, and a green square of grass marked the head of his coffin. A cross lay in the flower holder by the tombstone, and she lay the liles by it.

Andrew stood in the distance, visiting some graves of relatives of his. His mother's father, his mother's aunt...all the people he could have known, but hadn't. After a while of aimlessly wondering the row of dead kin, he looked for his lover. She was down the cemetery, kneeling over a tombstone. He walked rather swiftly to go get her.

Over the Christmas holiday season, he and Apassionada had taken a vacation in Palm Springs. They went into Los Angeles, Long Beach, Beverly Hills, and Hollywood. In the city, they went shopping day after day, seeing all the beautiful and famous sites that they only ever saw on TV or in movies.

There, they had gone into Tiffany & Co.. Looking around with him taking hold of waist, Apassionada had found the most beautiful diamond engagement ring, without realizing that it was one. It was made of 22 KT gold, with a heart-shaped diamond set in the middle of cluster after cluster, giving the effect of a bouquet of roses. Coming with it was a beautiful, yet simple gold ring from the Etoile collection, which meant "Star" in French.

"Oh my God, how beautiful," she whispered to herself.

"What? That one?" Andrew pointed out onto the glass counter, still behind her and embracing her.

"Yeah, isn't that beautiful?"

"Do you want it?"

"What?" She had just realized what the purpose of the piece was for.

"Do you want it? I'll buy it for you."

"Are you kidding? It's a...diamond engagement set. It's hundreds of thousands of..."

"I know."

She stared at him in disbelief. What the hell was he thinking? She was only 16! They left the shop that day, not buying anything, but still she was worried about what exactly was going on her troubled lover's mind.

The next day, Andrew returned.

"I'll take that ring there, please."

"Yes sir. Would you like them gift-wrapped?"

"No thank you." He had something else in mind for a Christmas present for her. He took the jewelry box and headed back for the hotel.

Andrew now stood in the middle of a wet and dreary Greenwood Cemetery, walking towards her. He wore his black trenchcoat, the one which he had so often wore back in the days when he used to chase her around. His left hand clenched the jewelry box in his pocket. Would he ask her now? No. Perhaps when they got back?   


Shopping Mall in Tampa, FL   
26 January 1999   
14h34

The last year of the decade, century, and millennium. Was it really true? Nick was walking hand in hand with Mandy in a popular shopping mall in Tampa. The way was beautiful and he couldn't feel better. After she checked out a few clothing shops, and he had boughten a new CD at the record store, they both headed to the food court.

"What do you want?"

"I think I'll go for Italian today."

"Alright," Nick said," you wanna order or me?"

"I'll pay for it today," she answered, taking out her wallet.

"OK I'm going to the restroom. Order me a pizza, k?"

"Sure baby."

"Thanks."

Nick disappeared into a crowd of shoppers, walking down to the hallway where the phones, janitor closets, and public restrooms were located. Once he was just about out of sight, Mandy put her wallet back in her purse.

"Excuse me." She accidentally bumped into a woman. Getting out of the food line, she then quickly made her way into the hallway, where Nick just entered the men's room. A few Spanish-speaking women were idolly chatting in the corridor, and she waited for them to leave.

Once she made sure no one was around, or looking at her at least, she went into the men's room. She saw Nick, going into one of the stalls. She took a few steps more. She looked around, checking to see if any girl were hanging around. No one.

"This is a men's room," laughed one big man, who had to be a trucker from out of town. "Ladies is over there!" His belly rolled with laughter.

"Ahhh...ahhh...," she stuttered. She was in shock. "No comprende," she smiled, trying to fake the best Spanish accent she could.

"Oh, sorry! Los banos de muchachas, abajo del pasillo!!!!!"

Mandy smiled sheepishly, not having the slightest clue as to what he had just said.

"Tank yoo," she chipped. She ran out of the area, and down the hall, laughing at herself. A few people stared at her. She didn't know if she was laughing out of embarassment, or out of pleasure.

In the line in the cafeteria, she was standing with her arms crossed when few girls came up to her.

One of them asked,"Excuse me, are you Nick Carter's girlfriend?"

"Yeah I am," she snapped,"so BACK OFF!" She had gone into that restroom just in time! The girls gave her a look, then turned away.

"Bitch," she heard one of them mutter.   
  
  


Orlando Story - Chapter 25

_Comme si j'n'existais pas (As if I didn't exist)_   
_Elle est passée à côté de moi (She had passed by me)_   
_Sans un regard, reine de Saba (Without a glance, queen of Sheba)_   
_J'ai dit,"Aïcha prend, tout est pour toi" (I had said, "Aïcha take, everything is for you")_   
_Voici les perles, les bijoux (Here are pearls, jewelry)_   
_Aussi l'or autour de ton cou (The gold around your neck, too)_   
_Les fruits biens mûrs au goût de miel (The fine ripe fruits with the taste of honey)_   
_Ma vie Aïcha si tu m'aimes (My life Aïcha, if you love me)_   
_J'irai où ton souffle nous mène (I will go where your breath leads us)_   
_Dans les pays d'ivoire et d'ebene (Into countries of ivory and of ebony)_   
_J'effacerai tes larmes, tes peines (I will erase your tears, your suffering)_   
_Rien n'est trop beau pour une si belle (Nothing is too beautiful for one so beautiful)_

_Aïcha Aïcha, écoute-moi (Aïcha Aïcha, listen to me)_   
_Aïcha Aïcha, t'en va pas (Aïcha Aïcha, don't go away)_   
_Aïcha Aïcha, regarde-moi (Aïcha Aïcha, look at me)_   
_Aïcha Aïcha, réponds-moi (Aïcha Aïcha, answer me)_

_Je dirai les mots les poèmes (I will tell the words, the poems)_   
_Je jouerai les musqiues de ciel (I will play the music of the sky)_   
_Je prendrai les rayons du soleil (I will take the rays of the sun)_   
_Pour éclairer des yeux du rêve (To light the eyes of the dream)_   
_Aïcha Aïcha, écoute-moi (Aïcha Aïcha, listen to me)_   
_Aïcha Aïcha, t'en va pas (Aïcha Aïcha, don't go away)_

-"Aïcha" by Cheb Khaled   


_Et puis y a les autres (And then there are the others)_   
_La mère qui ne dit rien (The mother who says nothing)_   
_Ou bien n'importe quoi (Or else anything)_   
_Et du soir au matin (And from the night to the morning)_   
_Sous sa belle gueule d'apôtre (Under her beautiful mouth of the apostle)_   
_Et dans son cadre en bois (And in her frame of wood)_   
_Y a la moustache du père (There is the moustache of the father)_   
_Qui est mort d'une glissade (Who died of a slide)_   
_Et qui regarde son troupeau (And who watchs his flock)_   
_Bouffer la soupe froide (Has his soup)_   
_Et ça fait des grands chloups (And makes some big chloups)_   
_Et ça fait des grands chloups (And makes some big chloups)_   
_Et puis y a la toute vieille (And then there are all the elders)_   
_Qui en finit pas de vibrer (Who haven't finished shaking)_   
_Et qu'on n'écoute même pas (And we don't even listen)_   
_Vu que c'est elle qui a l'oseille (Seen that she has loads of money)_   
_Et qu'on n'écoute même pas (And that we don't even listen)_   
_Ce que ces pauvres mains racontent (What these pour hands talk about)_   
_Faut vous dire Monsieur (Must you say Mister)_   
_Que chez ces gens-là (That at the house of those people there)_   
_On ne cause pas Monsieur (We don't gossip Mister)_   
_On ne cause pas on compte (We don't gossip - we count)_

-"Ces Gens-Là" by Jacques Brel

Duncan Residence; Orlando, FL   
11 February 1999   
1h54

The sun was setting, as Apassionada walked through the upper level of Thomas' house, who was one of Andrew's friends. All the guys were downstairs, talking about "sex and chicks", while Apassionada took a little nap in one of the rooms, since she had been feeling ill recently. She knew that they had just come home from partying on International Drive, and that most of them were mostly drunk, but it was something that she had slowly gotten used to over the past couple of years.

She had woken up about fifteen minutes ago. After freshening up, she slowly made her way downstairs. A few of the guys were woozy, talking about basically the same thing they had been when she last had heard them. She looked at Andrew. At least he was fine.

"So what's up with you and Apassionada?"

"Nothing, we're going out."

"Yeah, I know but like, what's up with you guys. I mean, out of the girls you've been with...I didn't think you'd ever go out with a black girl."

"She's not black," Andrew retorted. "She's a métisse!" He knew how sensitive his girlfriend was about how they viewed her ethnically. Andrew turned around to see her on the stairway, looking at him. She ran back upstairs before anyone else could see her. Andrew got up and followed her back up. When in the room she was staying in, he confronted her, taking her arm. She pulled away.

"Leave me alone!" She was already crying, and Andrew knew she was in a depressed mood.

"Apassionada, he didn't mean it like that. He's not Ian for crying out-"

She whimpered,"Well then what did he mean by that?" She pushed herself into the corner of the room, her arms crossed against her chest.

"I don't know! I don't know what goes on in his head?! We're just kidding around. We always do that. You know that! We're not going to go off killing people, got that? Listen, just calm down, OK? I'll talk with him."

"What's so kidding around about asking someone why they're going out with a black girl?"

He played with a strand of his hair. "Just let me handle it, OK?"

After that, she didn't hear nothing from him till he came back upstairs to go to bed. When he came to bed, he laid right beside her, holding onto her by the waist, placing his lips against the back of her neck.. Andrew then came up to her and kissed her on the forehead. She kissed him back.   


Carter Residence; Ruskin, FL   
13 February 1999   
18h23

"Where's Bobbi Jean?" Robert Carter was putting down his plate at the dinner table, as everyone began to settle down for the night to eat.

"Oh, she's staying over at Mercedes' place for the night," answered Jane.

"I thought Mercedes was a friend of Nick's."

"Yeah, she is. But she's also friends with BJ now, and they spend alot of time together, now that Nick's gone."

"Oh." Robert didn't say anything for a while. "You know, 19 years ago I would've never thought I'd see the day my first son moved out of the house. And he's also a superstar. Wowee...blows my mind..."

"He's one talented kid."

Aaron, Angel, and Leslie sat at the table, too. Aaron and Aaron were fooling around with each other's food, while Leslie waited for the right moment to jump into her parents' conversation.

She decided upon what to say. "Why do you think Nick moved out so soon?"

Both of them looked at her simultaneously, and she shifted her eyes at the awkward moment. No one had actually addressed this topic before, or to the rest of the family at least.

"Well," her mother said,"I guess he wanted a little more space. It is a crowded family, and he has a girlfriend, so..."

"He's gained alot of weight recently." All eyes turned on Angel.

"Angel, that's not a polite thing to say," admonished the father. "How a person looks doesn't matter, as long as their heart is good."

"I know...,"she shyly replied, her cheeks turning red,"but I was just saying...he's gained weight."

"Well boys that age grow like that sweetheart," Jane commented.

"I wanna grow up to be just like Nick," Aaron proudly exclaimed. Jane and Bob smiled at him.

"Where has he been lately? I haven't talked to him in weeks," Leslie complained.

"He's a busy young man, sweetheart," Jane replied, trying to calm all her kids down about their older brother.

"Yeah, I know, but he always used to call like every other day to see how we were doing. Now it's all about Mandy, Mandy, Mandy."

"Well she seems like a nice girl." Jane looked at her husband, giving him a rather interesting look. He arched his shoulders. She was still thinking about last summer.

"I think we should invite the both of them over for a barbecue or something, and get to know her better. It's about time."

"I thought he was too busy," Leslie murmured.

"Well we'll have him make time."

"When's their new album supposed to come out?" her husband asked, trying to change the subject in the least bit.

"Um...I think it's mid-May. They're supposed to be finishing up on recording the last tracks in the coming weeks. It should be a great album." She paused for a second, then got up out of her seat. "You know what? I'm going to make that phone call about the barbecue to him right now."

"When?" Robert wasn't so sure about this.

"Umm...how about this weekend?"

"This weekend! Do we have enough time?"

"We'll make time!"   


Apollo Beach, FL   
13 February 1999   
15h32

"Hey Megan! Look, they're at it again!" Aracelli was standing at her bedroom window once again, looking at Nick Carter and his girlfriend arguing. This time they were inside, but Nick's living room had a huge window, so they could see right through it with the curtains open. Some other guy was also involved with the confrontation this time as well.

After a while, Nick had had it, so he left the room. Mandy was left alone with the other guy, who was tall, rather well-built, with brown hair and brown eyes. Mandy began to pick a fight with him, yelling up in his face. The young man took it rather well, the viewing audience next door all thought. He got quite distraught, but never lost his cool, as Nick had.

Finally, the guy walked over to the entertainment system, and pushed a button. After a few seconds of eyeing him, Mandy turned him around, and slapped him square in the face.

"Dammmmmnnnn, somebody needs to call the cops on that girl. Got serious issues...," bellowed Rebecca.

Ann asked,"How long have those two been going out...and going at it?"

"I don't know," Val said sarcastically,"maybe you should ask them next time they come out."

"Shut up."

* * *

"What's up Mandy!" Brent, one of Nick's friends whom he had known since childhood, peeked his head through the kitchen door to say hi to his best friend's girlfriend.

"Hi," she said, not turning away from her culinary adventures. Brent figured she wasn't in a good mood, and went back into the living room.

"Hey Brent," called Nick,"I want you to listen to this."

"What is it?"

"It's a song that Brian wrote for our new album. It's called 'I Want It That Way'. He wrote and we recorded two versions of it, and it's the last song that Denniz wrote for us. They haven't decided yet which one we're gonna release and put on the album. Tell me which one is better, k?"

"Alright."

"What are you doing?" Mandy hauled ass into the living room, as soon as she heard he was going to play that wretched song that Brian had written for "Apassionada and Nick".

"Oh I'm just going to play a song for him from 'Millennium', sweetheart."

"Which one?"

"'I Want It That Way'."

"Why don't you play 'Don't Want You Back'? I think Brent would like that one more."

"No,"Nick said, unknowing of the true origins to "I Want It That Way","B-Rok wrote this song. I want him to hear this." Mandy walked over to the disc player, just as the first few guitar strums of the song sounded.

"Just play 'Show Me The Meaning...' instead. It's more meaningful, and it's dedicated to Denniz!"

"Oh there's a song dedicated to Denniz PoP on there?" Brent wondered. He thought he'd play around with Mandy for a while, just to see what she would do.

"Yeah there is," she smiled,"and you'd love it. It's very...good."

"Ah! Here, let's listen to 'I Want It-"

"Listen, 'Show Me The Meaning Of Being Lonely' is a much, MUCH better song!" She wanted as few people as possible to listen to that dumb song. She knew why Brian had written that song. Nick had probably told him. Ha! As if he had never hit her!

"Mandy! We both wanna listen to Brian's song! If you please..." Nick was beginning to get fed up with sort of nonsense from her. Rolling his eyes, he walked over to the stereo system.

"There are so many songs - much better songs - that you could lissten to! Let me pick one!" pointing at herself.

Nick threw his hands up, and cut them across like a shrewd politican,"Just forget it!" He went into the kitchen.

"What's the matter with you? It's just a song!" he complained with a polite, yet disdainful smile, once out of Nick's earshot.

"I have better taste," Mandy puffed.

"He's the professional singer and musician."

"That's got absolutely nothing to do with it!"

"Dude...you are twisted." Brent walked over to the system, and pressed "Play" for Disc 15. The guitar strums began again. "Yeah-eah..." The first verse came up, and Mandy's eyes filled with tears.

Storming up to him, she pressed the "Stop" button rather harshly, pushing the equipment back a bit. She took Brent by the arm, making him face her eye to eye, and just as about he was about to tell her off, slapped him across the face by the back of her hand.

* * *

"Nick," Brent moaned, with his hand on his face,"she slapped me."

"What?" He pretended to sound surprised. Oh God, he thought, now the truth was getting out about her. If one of the wrong people found out, he thought...

"She slapped me! I started to play the song, and she fuckin' slapped me."

"I'll have a talk with her," he said, disgusted.   


Lake Eola Park; Orlando, FL   
14 February 1999   
20h14

The February sun was setting in the west, as its fiery afterglow raised slightly higher than Orlando's skyline of contemporary buildings, swaying palm trees, and dozens of flocking birds in Lake Eola Park, one of the city's most beautiful spots. Andrew and Apassionada walked around the beautiful, grande lake, accented by the building lights of distant offices, and the golden illuminated fountain in the middle of Lake Eola, which shined like a rocket at night. At a small peninsula on the lake, stood four or five majestic palms, and from the gazebo, the couple went there.

Both of them were formally dressed, having come from dinner at a fancy restaurant for Valentine's Day. Apassionada wore, of course, the season's most extravagent gown, and Andrew wore a handsome suit. He took her hand, as he led her to the palms, which overlooked a most lovely scene. The calm, blue waters of the lake softly moved in rhythm with the palms.

Apassionada was still feeling semi-depressed about what had happened yesterday. She had been with Andrew for almost two years now. Most of herself she had completely given up to and for him; he meant so much, but deep down inside, there was a small flame. Even if just one solitary flame, there was something within her that wanted Brad back so bad. So bad, she'd do anything just to see him. He was about a mile away, and she could visit him whenever she liked, but she didn't feel like visiting a cemetery for the rest of her life.

If there was one thing that she didn't want, it was her lover's friends acting and therefore constantly reminding her of Brad's friends. Or was it his friends that was reminding her of Brad? Nevertheless, something, sinister and sinful, was keeping him from disappearing from memory. That was what they did everyday, or each time they saw each other. The way they taunted her, made fun of her, and teased her. She knew they were doing it for fun and as a joke, while Brad's friends had done it out of hatred and bigotry. Still, it was hard to let go of, or to hold onto.

Apassionada, as in these thoughts, didn't realize she was blindly still holding Andrew's hand as she stared out onto the brilliant horizon. A moment later, Andrew bent down, and she thought he had dropped something. Instead, he was taking something out of his coat pocket.

"Andrew..." She had a feeling as to what lay inside.

"Apassionada, veux-tu m'épouser?" _"Apassionada, will you marry me?"_

She gasped. Lay inside the velvet box were the diamond engagement ring set she had so well loved last Christmas. The diamonds glistened in the dusk. She didn't know what to say. She couldn't comprehend what to think. She cried in excitement, tears running down her face.

"Andrew..." Her voice tilted down in disappointment. He knew she would say no. He could feel by holding her hand. She took her other one, and cusped it around his.

"S'il te plaît...," he begged. "Please..."

"Andrew..." More tears began to come down her face. She had no idea why she was crying, but she was, and that was all that mattered to either of them. "Je ne peux pas...""I can't..."

"Non..."

"S'il te plaît...ne me force pas..." _"Please...don't force me..."_

"Comment?" "What?" Force her to do what? All he asked for was a promise.

"Je t'aime, Andrew...," she cried, trying to pull away from him.

"Donc, épouses-moi!" _"Then marry me!"_

"Non..."

"Pourquoi pas?" _"Why not?"_

"Don't ask me, Andrew. Please." He let go of her. It seemed that final act of transistion from French to English killed him. She walked away. He put the case back into his pocket, and went after her.   
  
  


Orlando Story - Chapter 26

_Don't tell me_   
_How to be_   
_'Cause I like some suffering_   
_Don't ask me_   
_What I need_   
_I'm just fine_   
_Here finding me_   
_Me_

-"Finding Me" by Vertical Horizon

Ruskin, FL   
13 March 1999   
10h32

"Hey, Nick? It's Jaclyn and Aliya...again! I don't know if something came up like all of a sudden or something, and if that's what happened, sorry for wasting your Sony® microcassettes. But like anyways, um...please answer if you're there! 'Cause ya know...me, Brent, and Aliya and Jake: we wanna talk to you. See if like we can get together like in the good old days. OK, you know Jaclyn's number (that's me!): 813-555-9065. Oh wait...we're still in the same area code! OK! Well bye. Call me sometime! 555-9065, k? Please? (laugh)"

Mandy stood in the kitchen, listening to the answering machine, after waiting for the phone to ring ring times, then hear who the message was from. Nick had gotten up to answer it at first, but him, with a serious headache, was stopped by his girlfriend.

"You're not calling them back."

"And who the FUCK are you to tell me I can't?" His head pounded even more at the elevation of his own voice. Nick had grown an extremely bad temper these past couple years. His family had seen it. His friends had seen it. Even some of the fans had seen it. Most importantly though, Mandy had seen it, which was ironic, for she was the one that gave it to him.

"Because-" she began, with a shaking of her head.

"SHUT UP!" he screamed back.

"Don't talk to me like that!"

"Then why do you do it?"

Instead of answering him, Mandy left for the bedroom.

"You're not calling them back!" she shouted behind her.

* * *

By early-April, "I Want It That Way" was beginning to be released to radio worldwide, beginning with Europe. "All I Have To Give", the previous release, and the last one from the eponymous American debut/European sophomore, had done pretty well. As this was happening, the Backstreet Boys were at LAX, filming the video to "I Want It That Way".

Part of the video consisted of actual fans of theirs standing around them, like in a break-dancing contest. It also consisted of airplane hangers, escalators, luggage carts, etc.

"I feel like a flight attendant," said Nick.

"Oh I can just see it now, man," grinned A.J. "The drinks, the smoked peanut bags, men looking up your skirt..."

"You're a sick man..." A.J. smiled some more. Mandy came up from behind him, and pulled his cap over his sunglasses. Nick had brought her along, for she'd taken some interest in the music industry lately.

"Hey!" She laughed, then came over to Nick. "Some of those girls are really starting to bug me," she whispered in a sing-song manner to her beau.

"Just ignore them."

Out of his droopy eyes, Kevin peeked one at Nick. He shouldn't have said that, he thought. He never knew when someone was listening. A fan, a reporter. They weren't supposed to be portraying that sort of image to their admirers. And another group of young girls stormed up to them.

From southwest Los Angeles, it was off to New York for MTV promotion. They left directly from LAX, which was one of the conviniences of having a video shoot at an airport. There, they scheduled not one, but two specials for the week of the release of "Millennium". One on the Sunday before, and the other on the day of the release. Crowds were suspected to be record-breaking for both days.   


Summers Residence; Orlando, FL   
14 April 1999   
7h11

"Apassionada..."

"Yeah?"

"Listen...about what happened..."

Andrew was spending the week at her house, pretty much the first time since Valentine's Day. He had called the day after he left, but that was about it, which wasn't much. For a while, she wasn't even sure where she was in terms of him, whether they had broken up or not. They had been strong, gone on for so long, it seemed crazy to stop it now...but to marry? That was just about as crazy.

He had apologized and explained over the phone, and she had understood, but everything was awkward now. What should she say to him? What could she say to him? She felt miserable. She knew she loved him, and perhaps she did want to marry him, but then what would happen? She had just turned 18 in February.

"Can we just forget about it? I...I don't wanna talk about it now..."

"Why not? Listen, just listen to me, Apassionada..." He looked her directly in the eye.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because I love you."

"It takes more than that."

"Then I guess I shall never marry then. I have everything in the world to offer to you. I know you well enough, just as you know me. What's stopping us? Think of the life we could have together...are you just afraid to say it?"

"Say what?"

"Say that you love me?"

"I've said it countless times..."

"But did you mean it? Or did you only say it because I did?"

"I just need time. I'm only 17. I began knowing you when I was 15! You are almost 25."

"Well then what happens now? We just go on like this forever? Is there someone else?"

"Andrew," she laughed,"how could there be possibly someone else?"

"There are ways." he whispered. "Just think, there's no reason in the world for us not to. If not, we just go on like this. Years and years, till we find out something about ourselves that we don't like, and make it an excuse to leave."

"If that's the case, I'd rather do it single than married."

"I wouldn't leave you. That's the difference."

"How do you know that?"

"I know. And you should to. You know me better than I do."

"I just have way too many things going on in my life right now. A marriage proposal isn't one of them. That doesn't mean I don't love you."

"But it means something."   


RCA Records, Inc.; New York, NY   
24 April 1999   
15h46

Nick was in the lobby area of the prestigous record label, RCA, waiting for the outcome of his girlfriend's interview. She had been in there for about half an hour now. He had secured her an interview with one of the A&R representatives way up there, and this could be her big chance to break into the business. Then, as she had wished, then they could perhaps announce their "love" to the world.

Since he had already admitted to having a girlfriend, she had wanted to take it the next step up. It could only do good, she said. He thought otherwise.

* * *

"This tape has some pretty good songs on it, Ms. Willaford."

"Thanks. I worked very hard on it."

"I'll be willing to sign you on for one album, required you met some of the conditions in the contract. Of course, we'll run them over, that is, if you're interested."

"Oh of course I'm interested!"

"Yes, so I understand that you're the girlfriend of Nick Carter?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Ahhh...impressive résumé already! How long have you two been seeing each other?"

"For about three years now."

"Wow!" He nodded his head in superficial satisfaction. "We'd have to keep that in the background during promotion, though..."

"Hmmm..."

"Alright, if you're willing to be ready for some hard work, you've got yourself a record deal, young lady."

"Consider me signed!"

"Alright, get ready to become a superstar!"   
  
  



End file.
